The Stark Twins
by FrostyPhoenix
Summary: When the argument between Steve and Tony gets out of hand, Tony lets it slip that he wasn't always alone. He had a life, with a family. But he couldn't save them. But can Steve help Tony fix something that, to the rest of the universe, is unfixable? NOT STEVE/TONY. I don't do yaoi. T because of the occasional swear word. I OWN NOTHING. ALL BELONGS TO MARVEL/DREAMWORKS, etc.
1. The Revelation

**A/N: Here is some Avengers and Ruse of the Guardians! Came up with this idea during swim practice, and I couldn't focus forever. Here ya go! **

It was official.

Tony was pissed.

He hadn't felt this angry in a long time. And as he stared into the infuriatingly calm blue eyes of the god-damned golden boy, Captain America, he felt feeling's he'd tucked away like an unused blanket threatened to boil to the surface after years of collecting dust.

"-Take that away, what are you?"

"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist." The response, while credible, was dry and automatic, simply autopilot. Rogers seemed to hear the change of tone and smirked, realizing that the constant sarcastic facade had slightly cracked.

"I know guys with none of that worth ten of you." Steve put specific venom in his words. Dimly, he was aware of the other team members watching the fight like a tennis match. He ended that sentence, but something else, another jibe, prodded in the back of his brain. He knew it was wrong even before it came out if his mouth, but he froze and it was too late. "Your family would be ashamed of you." No. A voice, disjointed and sounding hauntingly like his dear Peggy, whispered in the corner of his mind. But it vanished. "Not that you have any. And if you did, I'm sure we would want those high and mighty people out of the way too." No, Steve, stop. "But no, you're the great Tony Stark-" Stop. "-you've never suffered-" Steve. "-you've never lost anybody-"

At that moment, Steve felt something in his chest rip apart. Tony, who had stoically been staring at Steve during this whole rant, suddenly looked up. His eyes exploded with a rage that no one had ever seen in him and he boomed, "DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT I'VE NEVER SUFFERED! THAT I'VE NEVER BEEN HURT! THAT I'VE NEVER LOST SOMEONE!"

Steve just stared. He wanted to say he was sorry- he had messed up big time. He opened his mouth...only to hear the whispers of his teammates behind him. The accusatory whispers. And before he could think, the quickest self-defense spewed out of his stupid mouth.

"Oh, yeah? And just who have you lost that could possibly mean anything to you? Oh, wait, did that stupid computer voice of yours short circuit?" He felt his face twist into a sneer. "What horrible agony have you endured, Stark? You don't have a monster who lives inside of you-" Behind him, he heard Banner suck in a breath between gritted teeth and distantly hoped he wouldn't go hulk on them. "Your friend isn't about to die under the influence of an evil god-" out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha shift, widening her stance as if she were about to fight. "And you didn't go through a coma that-"

Suddenly, Tony thrust his face right up to Steve's. They were nose to nose. Steve heard the drawn out rush as Tony sucked in a breath...and the noise exploded on his ears.

"YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I'VE GONE THROUGH?" Tony bellowed. "MY WIFE DIED AND IT WAS MY FAULT! AND MY SONS-" Suddenly, his voice broke. He squeezed eyes shut and he wilted. "My sons..." He whispered. Again, Steve could only stand there, as could everyone else, in shocked, absolute silence. Abruptly, Tony lifted his head. His eyes were cold and hard, but brimmed with unshed tears. He reached into his pocket...and SLAMMED something down on the table before he turned on heel and stormed out, walking swiftly an silently, not meeting anyone's shocked eye. Everyone was frozen as he vanished through the hallway.

Steve tore his eyes away from the spot where Tony had vanished and gazed at the thing- no, things- that Tony had put on the tables.

They were photographs.

**Review please! Continue?**


	2. The Life Never Known

**A/N: Next chapter! Enjoy! It is not over yet, so hold your horses. Thank you for all my favorites, followers, and reviews! **

At least some of them were.

The one on top was what Steve presumed to be a wedding picture. In the photo, a handsome, exuberant younger man was standing with his arms wrapped around a smiling young woman with strawberry blonde hair. With a start, Steve realized that the young man was Tony. Younger, no hair thinning, no gray streaks, and a lot less lines- but it was Tony. Steve flipped it over.

_Tony/Pepper's Wedding Day_

The second photo was another picture of the two, virtually the same age. They looked like they hadn't aged a day since their wedding, yet in the woman's (Pepper's) arms there was a small bundle with a tuft of brown hair sticking out. A baby wrapped in a blue blanket. Steve's eyes drifted to Tony, who was grinning like he had just been given the world on a silver platter. Steve was shocked to see yet another blue bundle in Tony's arms. Twin boys. On the back of the photo, a description was scrawled.

_Benjamin Mathew Anthony Stark- 7:29 am_

_Jackson Michael Howard Stark- 7:31 am_

April 1st, 1997

Wordlessly, Steve flipped to the third. It showed two grinning, brown-haired toddlers, one with eyes the color of chocolate and the other with emerald irises. Other than that, they were identical. Their names were sewn onto their shirts. Benjamin had green eyes, Jackson had brown. The look of joy on their little faces brought an unconscious smile to Steve's face.

_Benji and Jack_

_April 1st, 1998_

There were more:

Steve saw various Birthday's of the twins, watching them grow to be in elementary school, middle school, and then high school. Most of the photos seemed to be centered around the Tony's wife, of more of the boy's. Dimly, Steve noted the photos of Pepper practically vanished as the boys went into school. There weren't really any of Tony as well. These parents clearly adored their children.

Steve was flicking past a photo of the twins winning a stand up comedy contest in the 5th grade when something thinner and lighter slipped from behind it. Picking it up, Steve realized it was newspaper clipping, or several, messily folded. Carefully, he untangled the paper and read the first head line.

_"Tragedy leaves Stark family Torn."_

Steve felt like he had been stabbed in the solar plexus.

_"Early on morning of April 3rd, 2002, Patricia Potts Stark, the brilliant CEO of Stark International and beloved wife of Tony Stark, lost her battle with cancer. The CEO, wife, and mother had been given six months to live for the past six years, managing to live past the birth of her twin sons and holding on long enough to celebrate their 6th birthday before succumbing to her illness after an unexpected flare in her symptoms. And now, with Tony without a wife and his sons without a mother, what will he do?_

The clip was cut there, a slight nick shaven off of the question mark's curve.

Steve wanted to throw up.

"You've never lost anybody..."

"Who have you lost that could possibly mean anything to you?"

Behind that was second clip.

_"Tragedy Hits too hard, too close for single surviving Stark."_

Steve's mouth tasted like sand.

_"On November 16, years ago, the world lost the great Howard Stark, joining his wife. None was hit harder, though, than his young son, Tony...who grew up with accomplishments that rivaled his father's. Probably on Tony's top list of achievements, though, was not his revolutionary Iron Man suit or unfathomable AI creation, but his late wife, Pepper, and his beloved sons, Benjamin and Jackson. An iconic symbol of spirit and ingenuity, the twins had the brightest future of any children. But on April 5th, 2011, a violent explosion rocked the foundation of the upper floors of Stark Tower. In the confusion, no one knew what had happened, only that the remaining Stark family members had been living there. An hour later, Ambulances were rushing the three to the hospital. Tony, who had suffered only a small head wound and broken ankle, was reported to be rambling- something about an experiment? The condition of 15 year old Benjamin and Jackson, on the other hand, had yet to be revealed. After a grueling 17-hours that America waited, the twins spent in surgery, and their father fretted, it was officially released that the twins had not survived. The only details about the injuries they received was that they were thrown out of the top floor window of Stark tower by the blast and plummeted down until they both hit the pavement. Miraculously, they were still alive when they were rushed to the hospital. But we can assume that broken limbs, severe burns, and massive internal bleeding would have inevitably brought on death. The loss of these brilliant lives will always ache in our hearts. Rest in Peace._

Numb, Steve skipped through more headlines.

"Funeral for Stark twins is deemed private."

"Secret Service agents keep every person not invited at least a mile away from service."

And the newest one, from just a few days ago.

"Stark Memorial Service Interrupted by SHEILD."

The world spun, his gut constricted, and Steve just knew he would pass out right there. What had he done? Not only had he ridiculed, insulted, and just ripped into Stark, but the very reason Stark was here- this was recent. This wasn't some old scar that had healed or at least begun to. This was something Tony dealt with everyday, each time as fresh and raw as the last.

It was a never ending pain.

**Review and get ready for some Tony! **


	3. The Fail and the Win

9 months later

Tony grimaced as he downed the dregs of his fifth cup of coffee. Wait, he'd already had his fifth...how many cups ago was that? Trying to rid the bleariness from his eyes, he blinked and glanced at the clock.

And promptly choked on his coffee.

3:18am?! Minutes ago it had been 2:12am! He'd planned all this success on injecting the serum exactly at three! Any longer boiling and the serum could lose the crucial electrolytes that would stimulate the brain activity!

Hacking in attempt to rid the tickle from his throat, Tony scrambled over to the controls and dragged his finger down the temperature levels, his heart pounding. He didn't waste a second, darting over the the burner and lifting the beaker off the stand. His heart sank into his toes when he saw the despairingly thin viscosity, but he still trickled a minute simple onto the screen and set the scanner. Please, please, please...

Concentration: 67%

Tony wanted to scream and sob. This serum had been cooking for the last ten months, and he had been so close... And now it was gone. He paused. Sixty-seven percent...that was still a good dose. Not the huge shock he thought he needed, but he was very tempted to use what he had. If there was a chance... No. Whatever the chance was that it would achieve his goals, the chance that it would cause irreparable damage to the mind and body of the subjects was much greater. He winced. His subject... That was wrong. Even if they did wake up, they would be brain dead at best.

He sighed and just flopped down, right on the ground. He was eagle spread, arms splayed, staring at the ceiling. What was the next step? He was not going to abandon this! Where else could he get the materials he needed?

No where. He'd exhausted many resources getting his hands on the elements needed for the serum he was creating...

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?" Responded the AI. Even though he was inanimate, JARVIS seemed just as eager to accomplish the correct combination. They both wanted this goal.

"Sweep the entire globe for quantities of any size of the elements we used for the serum, in any form."

"I already did, sir. There are no traces of any amount."

Tony felt like his heart was being crushed. He. Had. Been. So. Close. The only time someone had come closer was for entirely different results, and all it did was...

Tony sucked in a breath.

He sat up.

"JARVIS?" His voice quivered.

"Yes, sir?"

"Dial up Capsicle. I need to ask him a favor."

Steve was in his mode when the phone rang.

BOOM! BOOM BOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM!

His padded fists dug into the bag. His gave no mercy, imagining he was back punching the heck out of the Chitari.

Ring.

He froze.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Who the heck would call him? Cautiously, he flipped open his phone and said. "Hello?"

"Rogers? It's me."

Steve's heart stopped. He struggled to stay calm. "Hi, Stark,"

"Listen...uh...I need to ask you a favor."

"Anything." Really, he would do anything to ease the guilt that choked him every day.

"Okay...I need to take a sample your blood."

A few hours later, Steve stood fidgeting in Tony's lab. The billionaire had gone to get the supplies. When he had woken up after his coma, the huge buildings, bright flashing lights, and roar of such odd automobiles was enough to overwhelm him. But Stark's lab...this was a whole new level of crazy! The world seemed to age 100 years in terms of advancement, as if Steve had stepped into a pocket of a different time. Complex little gadgets littered the table as if they had just been left to sit. What did they do? And the touch-light thing that let Tony just play with images on the wall was a little disorienting. Something that looked like a recipe was currently glowing on its transparent surface. Steve squinted, trying to decipher the hastily written words, but they all looked like chicken scratch until the very last step, which he really didn't get.

CRUCIAL: Experimental quantity- tesseractium? Tesseractite?

Just then, Tony walked in, decked out in rubber gloves, lab goggles, and sporting a wicked syringe. Steve gulped.

"How much do you need?" He eyed the needle apprehensively.

"For now, about a quart." He began to swab Steve's arm. For now? Wondered Steve. But he didn't ask. He was just relieved that Stark was talking to him. They hadn't exactly made up after the Chitari attack, and the only interaction then had only been the forced, necessary sentences. And especially when Tony took that missile, expecting to die...

Steve swallowed. "Look...St- Tony...I'm sor-"

"Don't, Rogers." Steve blinked. Tony continued. "I've already forgiven you. You didn't know. And trust me, if this works...well, I'll be in your debt."

"What is this for, anyway?"

Tony hesitated. "A personal project." Before Steve could ask more, Tony said "Here we go." And plunged the needled into Steve's arm. Steve looked away. An extremely uncomfortable silence gripped the room for about thirty seconds before before Tony expertly withdrew the needle and tossed Steve a band-aid.

He placed it under the scanner. The light blinked green, and a bunch or letters that vaguely resembled some legible pattern glowed to life on the screen. Tony stared. "So that's how he did it... Rogers, that German scientist was a freaking genius." He messed with a few symbols. "...and if it has..." He gasped.

"What?" Asked Steve.

Tony slowly turned to face him. There was an odd look of undulated joy on his face. "Rogers...I'm gonna need some more blood."

Steve was officially, mentally, and literally drained. He'd given Tony everything he needed, and was now struggling to gather the energy to lift the Gatorade cup to his lips. Tony was swiping wildly at his light screens, muttering under his breath. Steve noticed the dark bags under his eyes, how his clothes were wrinkled. Coffee cups littered the workspace, drained of content.

"JARVIS? Separate the organic blood material from the foreign stuff."

"Yes, sir." There was a slight whir, and the container-filter machine that held the blood began to rumble. A slow trickle began from the nozzle, but the liquid wasn't red. It was bright, shifting blue.

"You really did it." Breathed Steve.

"Yep. I just need to make a few of my own modifications, and I'll have enough to try."

"Try what?"

Tony didn't answer.

**Ok, people, I'm setting up a poll On my profile. Tell me what you want to happen, as in choose one of the options I give you! I may/may not go with it but I want an ideas of what you guys like!**

**thanks people! Peace and poll!**


	4. He wants to get it right

An hour later, Tony had filled two gallon beakers of the stuff. By now, Steve felt better, if not a little shaky. It was now about eight in the morning, and the sun had just began to crest the tall buildings. That would make it so Steve had been here about four hours, observing and doing everything he could to help.

So it was kind of a surprise when Tony said he could leave.

"What?" He asked.

Tony looked up from where he was pouring some of Steve's serum into a bag that looked like it could be for an I.V drip. "I got what I need, Rogers. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"But..." Steve couldn't form the right words. How could he say _I want to stay_ or _I want to help you_? But the stupid defense auto pilot grabbed his tongue again. "It's my blood, Stark. I think I deserve to know what you're using it for." Tony stared at him. His dark eyes were blood shot and his hair was rumpled as if his pillow had decided to start a revolution and won.

"I don't think you'd want to know. It's unnatural...it probably won't work, anyway." Tony's voice was tight, as if he was struggling to hold it back. He wants to tell someone. Steve realized.

"You can trust me." Could Stark trust him? Of course! He was an honest guy.

For a moment, Tony just stared at Steve. In that moment, Steve saw just how thin the shield that held up his sarcasm and confidence really was. How fragile Tony was. He was only human.

Tony turned on heel. "Follow me."

He walked over to a thick, metal door in the lab wall and punched in a code. The door slid aside, and Steve eagerly followed, excited to see what magic Stark was cooking. Imagine his confusion when he just found an empty room with yet another door. Stark leaned over and froze as a retinal scanner buzzed and beeped, confirming a match. He swept through and stood aside. Steve walked in.

His heart stopped.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

His muscles were frozen.

He stared at the two identical, brown haired teenagers that lay motionless, as if in a deep sleep, on the gurneys behind a thick layer of glass.

"Is that..." Steve was pure cotton mouth.

"Yeah." Rasped Tony. "Captain, meet my sons, Benji and Jack."

If Steve was shocked, he knew he'd just die when he saw the two heart monitors, connected to each boy, as they beeped steadily, and firmly, in perfect unison.

**Bum BUM BUM...COMATOSE! Yeah they're in a coma so yeah. what happens next is decided by what I see on the polls! Go vote and if u have any other ideas u can PM me or leave a review!**

**Peace!**


	5. What Really Happened

**Here ya go! Next chapter! I think a few of you have already... Well you haven't quite guessed it, but your touching on it. This will probably help. And remember, not everything is as it seems.**

Steve just sat against the wall as a stone-faced Tony set the IV drips. The billionaire's movements were stiff and automatic, as if he was daring not to get his hopes up.

With infinite care, Tony took one of the boy's wrist in his hand and slipped the needed into his wrist. Steve tensed, not sure what he expected. Would the effect be immediate? Or would it take time? As the father continued on to the next boy, Tony glanced at Steve's stiffness and chuckled dryly. "Cool your jets, Steve. We won't see any results for about an hour and a half." Tony finished setting the boy's IV and plopped right down next to Steve, closing his eyes and heaving a deep breath.

For a moment, there was just silence as Steve stared at the white sterile wall and Tony gazed at the insides of his eyelids.

"So you know there was an explosion." Steve blinked and turned to look at Tony, who was still and limp, his mouth barely moving.

"Um, yeah." Was all Steve could say.

The same queer silence briefly gripped them, just long enough to pass for more than a pause.

"We... We were working on..." Tony's voice trailed off. Steve didn't pry, knowing that it was a painful subject. "But...anyway, it was my fault."

Once again, the thick silence pressed on Steve's ear drums with no noise to keep it at bay. He didn't know what to say.

"I–I didn't trust them. They told me, Jack told me, that I was putting in too much in...but...I..." His words began to jerk and heave as the memories took over.

_"Dad! I swear I did the calculations right!" Jack insisted, his brown eyes glimmering with concern. The crumpled sheet of notebook paper was clenched in his fist, lines and lines of advanced calculations scribbled across the surface. "That much ammonium perchlorate would–"_

_"It'll be fine, Jack." Tony wasn't really listening, squinting at the vial as he measured out the proper amount. _

_"Dad–"_

_"Where's your brother?"_

_"He's in the bathroom." Snapped Jack impatiently. "But–"_

_"Why don't you go double check with him?"_

_"Because by the time I–"_

_"DAD, NO!"_

The last thing Tony heard was the unified scream of his sons as the building ripped apart.

Tony shuddered at the memory.

"I was so stupid." He panted, grief seeming to crush his rib cage. "I–I should have listened– but– but–the blast shove the table into me and I hit the wall. And–and Benji was protected from the impact by the doorway he stood in, but he still got burned and a big concussion. But Jack–" Tony's hand slapped over his mouth and nose. "Jack... The force and the chemicals pushed him out the window. He hit the ground." The next words seemed to stick in his throat, and he had to force them out. "The– the doctors– they told me that the Benji should need life support, and–and that Jack shouldn't have even survived the fall. But– but they did. Their hearts beat on their own. And, and some part of me thought that they were waiting. Just waiting for me to fix them."

He took one final, deep breath. "And maybe, I've finally done that."

So the two sat in silence and waited.

But it was a comfortable silence.

On the other side of the world, Jack Frost was dying.

The Guardians gathered around him, frantically trying to brainstorm methods to heal his broken limbs and fix the internal bleeding before it was too late. Little did they know... It already was. And while they squabbled, Jack lay face up on the concrete, feeling him self slowly drift away.

They should have listened it him.

If only they would have listened, they would have known that mixing that much of Sandy's dream sand with Pitch's nightmare sand would cause an explosion like a bomb. But they didn't listen, didn't care; he was just a kid, after all. Of course, they had all been far away when it happened, except for Jack. And the very force had ripped Jack's staff from his hand and sent him falling towards the ground.

And he hit it.

His breaths were getting shallower. His chest began to ache more than ever. He wanted to talk to them, but they wouldn't be quiet and he couldn't yell. So he could only listen to their pointless methods and ideas, oblivious to the fact that the person they were trying to save was bleeding out on the ground before them. But for all their faults, he loved them.

That was his last thought as he closed his eyes.

And exactly one hour and thirty-one minutes after impact, Jack Frost died.


	6. Jackson Stark's Transformation

Steve glanced at his watch. The moment they hit one hour, Tony had started pacing around the small room, muttering under his breath. With a pang, Steve realized he might be trying to think of what to say to his sons. Steve felt pity for the poor man; how do you tell your sons what has happened in the past few years? There would be a lot of catching up to do.

It had now been an hour and twenty-nine minutes, and Tony was practically jogging in circles. The whole time, Steve had just sat there, content to rest and watch his friend (boy, that escalated quickly) meander around the room. He'd also taken the opportunity to get a better look at the twins, who, to him, looked completely the same.

Some point around the half-hour mark, Tony had told him which was which, but Steve had already lost track. He thought the one he was looking at was Benjamin– or Benji, as he was called. In the boy, Steve could see Tony very clearly– something that went beyond just similar hair color. Maybe it was the way that the eyebrows were positioned over the eyes, or the natural unruliness of the hair style. Yet, something in the boy seemed less... Proud, or cocky. There was a softness in his face that seemed more like his mother– Pepper. It was something kinder, but also made him look more mischievous.

On second thought, he had more of Pepper's hair color– that bright blonde.

Wait a second.

Steve blinked. Had his hair color just changed?! As he stared at the boy, his lighter hair was lightening, as if the color was fading from the strands and turning them snow white. Steve's eyes widened as Benjamin's skin started becoming visibly paler as whatever pigment drained away.

Then Steve found his voice.

"TONY!"

From the other side of the lab where his wandering had taken him, Tony bustled through the door.

"What? Are they–"

"I think something's wrong with Benjamin."

"What?" Tony yelped, and darted over to the other boy, who was still and still normal. "What's wrong with Benji? I don't–"

"The OTHER ONE!"

"Wha– Holy–" Tony whipped around the table as he saw Jack's pale skin and hair. His heart still beat in unison with Benji's like always...

The unison sped up.

Tony gasped and stumbled over to the heart monitor, which he gripped with both hands like a life line. He stared at the heart rate. For the entire time the twins had been in the coma, their heart rate had been a constant fifty-two beats per minute.

Now it was sixty-three and climbing– quickly.

Sixty-five.

Seventy-one?!

Seventy-nine!? It was accelerating at a dangerously fast rate, increasing speed like a dramatic drumbeat.

Eighty-five.

Ninety...

Ninety.

Stabilizing at ninety.

_He didn't want to open his eyes. _

_He's been sleeping for a long time, though. Perhaps it was time to wake up._

_He still had that thing... That thing to do..._

_Suddenly, something whooshed over him. Noise, sounding muffled as though from under water where he floated dreamlessly. It was a voice, with a timbre and tone that was very familiar._

_Dad._

_He sounded worried. Really worried. _

_Another voice, unfamiliar, punched his ear drums, and Benjamin winced, feeling his skin wrinkle and almost not recognizing the feeling. _

_Something bright began to seep through his eyelids. It was beautiful at first, but began to get brighter and brighter. It hurt! He dimply felt the stickiness around his eyes, and the cool air that touched him, and the softness of a thin sheet over his shoulders. _

_It had been a long time since he had felt anything other than whispering darkness._

_He knew what he had to do._

_Benjamin steeled himself. He knew this wouldn't be pleasant. _

Benjamin Stark opened his eyes

YES, I KNOW ITS SHORT. But its all i have right now. well, there's the transformation. I think u really want the next chapter, don't you? Lol. Ok, thank u for all the fave and stuff! Review to wake up the boys!


	7. The Awakening

**And drumroll please!**

Jack was on fire. The merciless flames washed over his body and roiled everywhere, scorching him in knife-stabbing agony. He tried to scream, but flames filled his mouth. He could feel his skin boiling, frying, baking in the murderous inferno, there was nothing but pain–pain–

Suddenly, he was plunged into air that seemed to be able to tear his skin as he fell, fell, fell. It whooshed all around him, this was so much worse because it smacked his raw skin, seemed to attack him–

Then, most horrible of all– impact. Jack seemed to slow down a centimeter from the pavement, just so he could feel _every_ bone **snap**, feel _every_ rib **crack**, feel every organ rupture...

He felt his own heart stop.

"GAH!" A white haired boy opened his eyes.

It was light. It was soft and gentle, seeming to curl around him like the wind.

It was warm. Not stifling or but airy and comfortable. Silence floated in the air like a soundless whisper.

Something was different, he thought. Nothing too big, he assured himself, merely a single hair out of place that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Then it slid smoothly into his brain.

He was content.

Jack pondered this. It was a foreign feeling, a combination of total relaxation and absolute euphoria. Strangely, it was this laid back emotion that triggered his first fly in the ointment:

Where was he?

It struck a chord. Jack suddenly found it in himself to sit up. He did so smoothly and without any pain- which, for some reason, was not expected. As Jack absorbed his surroundings, contentment became more and more a distant dream. It was a shapeless room, full of the warmth and light and misty clarity. The light had no source, it simply was. The warmth had no advocate, it simply was.

A feeling, a strong, infinite emotion seemed to prod at his mind. There was no way to describe it, but he wondered if it was love.

Had he ever felt love?

A part of him had, something in him had... Jack couldn't have lived without love...

Suddenly, the mist in front of him swirled and thickened. The drifting fog solidified, forming a young boy– no, two young boys, just toddlers. The identical phantoms chased each other around a home visible only to them, giggling and laughing. "_I'm gonna get you, Jack!_" The young boy's voice echoed around the shapelessness.

_Hey_. Jack realized. _That's my name_! Was this his memory? It seemed familiar, but in this discordant way, as if a friend told him about it.

"_No, you won't, Benj_i!" Little Jack's voice rebounded off of nothing. Suddenly, four arms of mist came from nowhere and scooped the two up and began to tickle them mercilessly. Little Jack giggled and shrieked, and Benji cried, "_Mommy! Daddy! Let go_!" The man and woman laughed, and the man laughed, "_In your dreams, sport_!"

That was when the feeling, the little mental prod– poured into him full blast. That feeling. The love a parent had for a child, filled him like a thousand oceans and came no where near to summing it up. Jack felt a grin slide across his face as he realized it was for him, all for him, because someone cared.

More memories flashed in his mind, the good and the bad.

_My mother died._

_Dad is sad._

_He finished his first suit! _

_We went to get ice cream!_

_I made my first microchip._

They filled him, pushing aside any space in his brain and filling it with memories of trial, sorrows, joy and love.

Then, the thoughts came.

Equations began to race across his vision with the length of an encrypted bible, encyclopedia, and dictionary all packed together. It was this, the hours spent in the lab, the failed and accomplished experiments, the sleepless nights, not because he was a normal teenager but because he wanted to work on this or that invention that worried him. Here was when he felt he was being thrust into someone else's body. He dared to think...

Were these really his?

Yes! He tried to tell himself. Remember Dad, and Benji, and Uncle Happy...

He was back in the fire. He was falling, falling, falling...

Someone called his name.

? ﾟﾌﾏ? ﾟﾌﾏ? ﾟﾌﾎ? ﾟﾌﾎ? ﾟﾌﾎ? ﾟﾌﾎ? ﾟﾌﾎ? ﾟﾌﾎ

Tony kept staring at the damn heart monitor. Could it be? Ninety...It must be a major workout for their bodies just to wake them up.

Oh, god. Were they really–?

"Sir?" JARVIS inquired. Tony was just staring at the monitor, gripping it so hard his knuckles were paling.

"Sir, Nicholas Fury, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, and Bruce Banner are at the door. I'm afraid my security protocols are being overridden."

Tony didn't move.

Steve cleared his throat. "I'll go handle them, Tony. Um, yell if they," He gestured to the boys. "...you know." He clapped a frozen Tony on the shoulder and went out to meet the other Avengers, the doors banging shut behind him.

And on the inside, Tony's thoughts were raging.

He released his death grip on the monitor and turned to stare at his sons, who were the same as they had always been... Except for the fact that Jack had completely, inexplicably changed colors.

He stared at the 'younger' of the two, forcing his mind to push away the concern and focus on what could have happened to Jack that wouldn't happen to Benji. He knew that when Capsicle had been operated on that he'd gotten beefier and taller, but Jack was still the same that way– he and Benjamin both had always been on the thin side, and he looked unchanged. Why would his hair and skin change color? Maybe–

Suddenly, Tony heard Steve's frantic voice waft down the hall, muffled by two layers of micro-steel doors but still audible.

"No, DIRECTOR FURY, he's not over here, he's–"

Tony ran out the door as fast as he could and burst through the last one.

"Security breach!" He forced out, knowing that's what they would think he'd say. Fury, however, narrowed his eyes (oh, sorry, eye) at Tony's disheveled appearance but seemed to brush it off.

"We have some important business to discuss, Mr. Stark." He said calmly. Behind his back, Steve gave Tony a desperate face.

Tony's mind raced. He could not let them find out about the kids, and Fury was much to close for his liking. Forcing himself not to look back at the doorway, he said, "Well, lets talk." And walked quickly away, forcing Fury and a jittery Steve to follow him out of the Lab and into the front part of the building, where the windows overlooked most of New York City.

The same window that Tony had fallen out of when Loki had pushed him. Now he was terrified to go out there at all.

Benjamin Stark opened his eyes and immediately closed them again as violent light glared down at him. Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, he tried to sit up, but stopped when the muscles responsible twitched and failed. How long had it been since he'd moved?

The realization shocked him into a bolt upright position.

The explosion, crashing into that wall at the speed of sound...

He tried to open his eyes and search, but the harsh brilliance made his had hurt. He rubbed his face hard with his hands, trying to wake up. "D-dad?" He croaked and grabbed his throat, alarmed at his voice sounded like a squeaky door hinge.

No reply.

He swallowed painfully and rasped, "Jack?"

He listened for the slightest noise. "Jack?"

CRASH!

An explosion of noise to his right sent him tumbling off the place he sat on. He landed painfully on his left side, fighting back a cry at the bursts of pain that seemed far too painful and discovering he wore nothing more than sweatpants.

"How– wha..." Benji pulled his hands away from his face and cocked his head at the sound. Was that–?

"Benji?! Dad?!"

"Ow!" Choked Benji before he could stop himself. He heard the smack of feet on linoleum.

"Benji!" It was–

"Jack!" He felt his brother tackle him in a hug.

"You're ok." Jack whispered.

"Y-yeah, but...is it just me or is it really bright in here?" For what sounded like the first time in years, Jack laughed.

"I- I think its just you. Um, here." He stood up, briefly breaking the hug and plopping a baseball cap on Benji's head. "Better?"

Benji carefully blinked his eyes open. It was still a bit much, but at least he could see. "Yeah, that's good." He looked up at Jack and opened his mouth– and stared.

"What?" Asked Jack, smiling slightly. "Am I that good looking?"

Standing up shakily, Benji just grabbed Jack's shoulder and directed his face towards the metal surface of the counter top, which could serve as a mirror.

Jack stared at his reflection. Blue eyes stared back at him and he reached up to touch the silver-white hair.

"Oh."

**Yay I tried to make it extra long to celebrate the awakening scene! Tell me how you think the father/son reunion should go! If anything is confusing, let me know.**


	8. The Explanation

Hi guys! Before I rant, I wanna let you know how grateful I am that you've take the time and read and reviewed this! I love u guys! Anyway, I've been getting alot of reviews that say they are confused as to what happened. #1) IM REALLY SORRY. I guess I fail at that amazing writing where u can be cryptic and still understandable. I mean that I wish I'd written it better. 2) to Dark Inu Fan: I know something like that would happen over time, and used the idea that Cap's serum still had that muscle regenerating power. It only worked partially for Benji, who experienced pain, and help completely fix Jack because... Of this reason. Look down to the next step. 3) ok, here is the purpose of this annoying blurb. What you know is that Jackson Stark got hurt a lot worse than Benji did. The serum was enough to bring back Benji, but maybe not Jack Stark. Also, Jack Frost died of the reasons described in that chapter at the same time the serum was reaching Jack Stark's blood stream. So when Jack Frost died and his soul began to travel to the afterlife, partly MiM and lingering instinct drew the soul and perhaps a bit of the likeness of Jack Frost to Jack Stark, who was brought up high enough by the serum to connect with Frost's soul. Since the serum was fixing the internal damage and such, the two were able to merge. Tony and Cap witnessed the transformation. It was a perfect storm. In the hallucinations: That was a weird limbo between the two states. Somewhere between the two boys during the merge. They transformation almost killed them. So: in short: this Jack Stark's body. This body has Jack Stark's memories. But the body changed certain characteristics. Think of when Jack Frost died in the movie and changed colors. A similar thing has happened to Jack Stark. But will this new soul...does it still carry Jack Frost? This body was a merge of two boys who now inhabit a human body. But some immortal spirit parts shone through I.e when Jack Stark could easily get up and move with no problem while Benji had trouble. Ok, on to the next chapter! Thank u people. 


	9. Forgotten and Laughter

**Hey Guys! So sorry for the wait! Just saw Sea of Monsters and it was much better than the first. Anyway, here is the next chapter! Enjoy!**

Tony shuffled his feet on the expensive wood flooring, unable to stand still. Something was making him so jittery..._oh yeah_. It was that fact that two boys– his boys– were probably waking up from a year long coma, practically coming back to life, but no, he was prisoner in his very own tower, forced to listen to Fury ramble on about some seriously unimportant topic— while his sons needed him! They needed him and-

"Mr. Stark?" Fury's deep, distinctly annoyed somehow managed to temporarily distract a 1/100000000 of his brain from the pure parental instinct. Tony looked up, trying to lease his energy by ramming his clenched fists into his grimy jean pockets. If the commander of SHEILD took any more notice of Tony's stained clothes, patchy beard, mussed hair, coffee mustache, or black-ringed eyes, he didn't show it. He just gave the the billionaire an irritated look, as if he had said something stupid in front of the president if the United States. "Are you paying attention at all?"

"M'yeah, yeah." Tony said distractedly, sparing a glance at the stuck up a-hole.

For a moment, Fury simply considered the distant-minded man in front of him. Then, he decided to cut right to the chase.

"Mr. Stark, SHEILD's sensors picked up traces of tesseract energy at this exact location that were active within the past 24 hours- so it isn't residual energy left from the tesseracts time here." Fury took a step here closer to Tony, who now at least had two eyes on him. "You of all people should know that the energy emitted by the Tesseract, no matter how small, has the potential to destroy this world and those around it. Not to mention that those traces would still be visible now, which would be more than enough evidence to put even _you_ in the most maximum security prison this planet can muster. So," He leaned forward until their faces were barely a foot apart. "Are you going to tell me what you were doing?"

Tony met Fury's stare evenly and unflinchingly, showing no emotion.

On the inside, his mind and heart raced.

His first instinct was to lie. They had definitely picked up the signal from when he had separated the serum from Steve's blood (the super soldier was shifting nervously from foot to foot in the corner of the room, his face fraught with worry and anxiety. Tony personally thought he might wet himself. Though, he was impressed that for once the Golden Boy wasn't so inclined to tell the biggest figure of authority about the boys). Anyway, he could tell Fury that he'd been trying to recreate the serum, and had just stumbled upon the Tesseract elements... No, they would have expected him to figure it out (which he had).

Could he maybe- possibly- tell the truth? No, then SHEILD would want to experiment on his boys, and he'd be questioned as to why he kept Benji and Jack's condition a secret and allowed the world to believe the initial media reports of their death. As if they would believe that he wanted to protect them from the god-damn media and press— for once he was cursing the sarcastic attention-hog facade he'd adopted. But the bottom line was that he could not - with a capital COULD NOT- let anyone find out about the boys. Not yet.

Alright. He was running out of options. What if he could—

"Mr. Stark." Fury's voice was bordering dangerous, hard and unforgiving. Tony stared at Fury's shiny black shoes, trying to think.

No. His heart sank into his worn socks. There was no way out.

He looked up into Fury's dark, hard eyes and opened his mouth, feeling himself force his jaw to lower.

"I—"

Boom.

A dull thud resonated in the walls behind him. Tony had lived here in New York for years, and had memorized every room on this floor...and he thought what he thought was wrong, it couldn't be right... But he was sure that it was the twins room.

"I...have to, um, go to, the, uh, bathroom. Right." It was lame, and he knew it, but before anyone could say anything he turned on heel, slipped through the door, and locked it behind him. He dimly heard voices on the other side, angry, shocked voices and a worried, tentative one. Steve would cover for him, at least he could rely on that.

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Suddenly, facing whatever was in the twin's room (and he was positive that was where the noise was coming from as more thunks and even muffled sounds that could be words floated down the hallway) seemed much harder than simply going back into the room and confronting Fury. But... No. He had to carry on.

He took a step down the hallway, and another step. His strides seemed to get tinier and tinier as the corridor seemed to stretch in length.

Suddenly, he was at the door. The door to the room he had stared at months earlier, trying to imagine his boys running out and tackling him, teenagers though they were. Funny, he realized, how they had a room together even though there were enough rooms to spaciously house a small field trip. Had they stayed together to feel the comfort of another's presence? Tony knew what it felt like to be alone, to be lying in his bed and not be able to reach out and touch his wonderful wife, now long gone. His throat constricted. Had he done anything for his children since their mother died? There had never been any grief counseling, long tearful talk, or anything like that. He had just somehow managed to carry on long enough to teach Benji and Jack the things he knew until it became a routine for all three of them. The boys had woken up the morning after she passed with tear stained faces and bed heads, but after that it was just plain. No tears, just silence. I mean,Tony had never done anything wrong— contrary to the popular belief he _did not_ have a different woman in his room every night! He'd never done anything like that at all except with Pepper... It was odd, because he'd always been the one that could tell them apart while their own mother...

Tony shook his head and put his shaking hand on the doorknob, listening to the thumps and bangs. Whatever lay behind that door...

Tony steeled himself and turned the knob, entering the room in time to see Benji flop right over on his back, his arms hopelessly tangled in his favorite old brown sweatshirt. At the sound of the door opening, he turned his head and said, "I think I've forgotten how to do this."

Tony laughed harder than he had ever done.

THIS IS NOT THE END! Horrible ending yeah but I have a plan! Review!


	10. Jack is very, very lost

_1 hour earlier._

"What happened to us?" Whispered Benji. By now, his eyes had grown more accustomed to the light. He stared at his hands, which hadn't changed at all. Then, he looked out the small and only window in their father's familiar spare lab and gazed at the skyline, which had changed dramatically.

Yesterday (it seemed) there had been as many buildings as one usually sees in the heart of New York City, whole and tall and shining. Cars had bustled in the streets below and honked hurriedly, everyone striving to their destinations. It had been so fast paced— the atmosphere, the chatter, the life— and Benji had relished it.

Now, where once tall shining buildings had stood were concrete, steel, and wood skeletons, bare and patchy. Their rubble was piled up on street corners, hastily stacked and forgotten. The Chrysler building's glass windows were cracked and shattered, and the Empire State had a huge gash taken out of the side, as if God had gotten angry with a butter knife and took a swing. The flat iron building was a lump of rusted metal, and no ferries chugged near Battery Park. To the eye accustomed to traffic choked streets, the cars in the roads were now fewer.

Jack didn't reply at first, but rubbed his hands through his hair as if he could ground out the paleness. "I don't know." He sighed finally. "But..." He took a deep breath. "I think we have to assume that we've...been...out of it, for a while."

"Yeah." Benji whispered. "But... But...what do we do?"

"My guess?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "My first personal mission is to find a shirt. Then, I want to find out what the hell made me look like that creeper Jack Frost."

Benji blinked. "Who?"

"Jack Frost." His twin repeated. "You know, that creepy dude from the Santa Claus movies."

"Oh. _That_ creeper."

They don't know why they felt compelled to whisper and tiptoe around.

And as they crept through the achingly familiar hallways, they were relieved to know that at least nothing on the inside had changed.

But on the outside, particularly Jack's...

Benji was so confused as they snuck by, Jack leading the way, staring at his brother's white hair and wondering how the hell it could have happened, that something else entirely smacked him in the face like a fish tail.

He froze.

"Jack!" Benji hissed.

The white haired boy stopped and whipped around. "What?"

"You're going the wrong way!" He whispered frantically. Benji looked around. Their home was a maze of hallways, but he was sure he knew where their room was from here.

"What? No, the room North gave me is this way! I remember because it was in the coldest part of the workshop so Bunny and the elves couldn't bother me!" Jack insisted.

"What?"

"..."

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. Benji was the first to speak.

"Where—?"

"I don't know."

"Why-?"

"I don't know that either."

"How-?"

"How about we assume, just for a moment, _I don't know."_

Pause.

"How about...you lead the way." Mumbled Jack.

"Yeah." Said Benji, smirking. "Wouldn't want to end up at the Easter Bunny's castle!"

Jack frowned thoughtfully. "It's a warren, actually."

Benji raised his eyebrows. "Are you joking?"

"I- I just..." Jack shook his head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. "Nothing. Ignore it all. I must be going nuts." He looked at Benji pleadingly with his unnervingly blue eyes.

"Ya don't say..." Muttered Benji as they crept in the opposite direction. The two tiptoed along the dim hall. One more right, and... "Here." He pushed open the door and gawked at what he found.

The room itself hadn't changed much- their twin beds (pun intended) were pushed up against either wall, the dressers at their feet. The photographs that lined the walls- portraits of their beautiful mother, family photos at the numerous Stark Expos they had attended- it was all there. Feeling as if he was in a dream, Benji walked slowly into the room- and clouds of dust puffed up where his bare feet touched the wood floor, leaving his foot prints clearly embellished in the heavy sprinkle of homely sand. Everything was covered in a thick layer of the stuff. Experimenting, Jack backed up a few steps before cannon-balling onto his bed— only to splutter and cough violently when he was lost in a linty blizzard.

Benji was mesmerized as he walked over to his night stand. Sitting faithfully on the top was the prototype for a humming-bird camera he had been working on... It seemed like just yesterday. And if he forgot the drastically changed city and the snow-day of dust in his room, he could almost believe it had been yesterday. But he truly knew it wasn't.

The had been gone a long, long time.

Staring, Benji carefully scooped up the tiny invention. It was roughly done, and he could already see flaws– those wings couldn't possibly be aerodynamic, and hummingbirds didn't have little arms- why did he even out those on there? He sighed, anguished. There was nothing really great he could do with it now, so he would have to start over. A fresh start. He closed his fist around the tiny body of the camera and turned towards the rubbish bin, on the other side if the room, which was also furred with dust. Benji squinted, closed one eye, drew back his hand, and aimed. His arm was just about to go forward-

"NO!" Benji froze on the spot when Jack suddenly yelled, one arm still raised in the air. Jack stumbled frantically forward, accidentally knocking over his own nightstand, which hit the ground with a BOOM so loud that Benji was positive they heard it in the lobby, fifty floors down. A few of Jack's inventions, just small, delicate bits of microchip and wire, scattered forgotten on the floor. Jack grabbed Benji's wrist, tugged the small mechanism from his hand, and cradled it in his palms like it was an injured animal.

He looked at Benji with shocked eyes. "Why would you throw this away, Ben? There's so much we could do with this-"

"Like what? Scraps?"

"No!" Jack looked so horrified that Benji almost felt guilty. "This could be, like, the Tooth Fairy! Yeah, and instead of the parents going and getting the teeth from their kids during tonight, they could send this thing in to get it! Then, if the kid woke up, they wouldn't stop believing!"

"And what would we call it?" Benji half joked, humoring his brother. "The Tooth-o-matic?"

Jack frowned seriously, "No, because there would be more than one... How about... Baby Tooth? Because she's gotta have minions, right?"

Benji just stared. It wasn't just that Jack was acting weird, but the white hair and the blue eyes... Benji was almost starting to doubt this was his brother.

It was at times like this that Benji worried for his brother's sanity. He was talking like the Tooth fairy was real. And why would they make toys for kids? Their job was to come up with the next great inventions of the century, and this couldn't be one of them. But he didn't want to hurt Jack's feelings, so he settled on a shrug and, "It's a fun thought."

At this, Jack's excited smile dropped off his face and he shrugged as well, suddenly non committal. He walked back over to his nightstand, grabbing the edge and heaving it back upright with another boom that he felt in his toes.

When Benji had turned around to look through his dresser, Jack quickly slipped the hummingbird cam into his sock drawer.

"Let's, umm, find shirts." Mumbled Benji, mostly just to break the awkward silence.

"Yeah..."

Jack rifled through his sweat-shirt drawer, hearing Benji do the same. He was searching for the one his mother had given him on his sixth birthday as a 'grow-into' present. The dark green garment had been huge at the time, but now it fit perfectly.

Was that it? No, that was the pitch-black one that Justin Hammer had given him as a creepy I-hope-we-work-together-In-the-future present. It was designer and crazy expensive and was soft on the outside but was really uncomfortable on the inside, like it was filled with sand. He picked It up wearily before something made him plunge it deep into the bottom of the drawer where it would never be seen again. He smirked slightly as the other sweatshirts covered It. _Destroyed by your own brethren. _

He sighed with relief when when he saw the green one peeking out from under a dark blue jacket with a drawstring hoodie. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, intent on peeling it back and retrieving his prize, when he froze.

Should he wear the blue or green? What if-?

Dude! You're being stupid!

He yelled at himself. It wasn't such a big choice! Huffing, he grabbed the green one and stood at the same time Benji pulled out a brown one.

Nausea washed over Jack like a sickly, polluted wave.

Benji was successful as well, pulling out the chocolate colored one he had received from their mother. Suddenly, Jack stood up and mumbled, "Bathroom," And slipped out the door, which clicked shut behind him.

"Just do what'cha gotta do..." Muttered Benji to Jack's retreating footsteps as he searched for the correct opening in the garment. He found it, stood, and slipped it over his head... And promptly fell over with a loud thump!

Cursing under his breath, he blindly clawed around the interior, feeling as if all his senses except touch had been robbed from him. If he could just get his head through— was that the— no, that was the arm hole, not the head hole!—

Grunting with frustration, he lashed out with a leg— and bit back a yell as the top of his foot slammed painfully against a wall. _If— he—could—just—find—!_

Oh. There it was.

He tugged his head through the top and instinctively thrust his arms out to his side, only to find himself fighting to punch his hands straight through the fabric. Aw, come on! Frustrated beyond belief, he tried to reposition the hoodie, but only lost his balance again and fell with a boom that rattled his jaw. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door open and turned to it, rolling on the ground to ask Jack for help.

"I think I've forgotten how to do this."

Then his eyes adjusted and the his father burst out laughing.

Maybe not that much had changed after all.


	11. North's Plea

**HelloHello people! I know I haven't left an AN in a while, I keep forgetting! **

**1)Anyway, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, and I am ASTOUNDED at the 73 reviews! WOOOOOHOOOOO SNOOOOOWWWDAAAAYY! Yeah. **

**2)So, I do realize the whole reunion is dragging a bit but I PROMISE that it doesn't end when they are reunited. It doesnt end there, i have big, big plans for this story.**

**3) Please check out my other stories I have a lot of original ideas!**

**4) I will be starting a new story of Rotg one shots! If you want a story, review or PM mE! Or if you go to my profile and look at my list of obsessions and want a story for one of them, ask and I shall write!**

**Anyway, I love u guys, keep reading and reviewing! **

The whole North Pole was in grieving.

No toys whizzed around what used to be a wonderful, cheerful chaos. Any yetis that were able to work just painted quietly or put together robots. The entire work shop was dim and silent, filled with brooding yetis. Even the elves just listlessly meandered around the halls, no drive for mischief and cookies now that the person they had regarded as their God was gone.

Despite being creatures of Christmas, almost everything was blue.

Nicholas St. North was alone and holed up in his office, a huge mug of stale whiskey by his hand. Only one candle shone in the night, scaring up the shadows in his stained and tangled beard, reflecting dully on his empty, wonder-less eyes. The other Guardians were in similar states as he, with their centers buried deep inside them, almost unreadable.

Nick took another swig of whiskey, feeling the bitter liquid slide down his throat. It numbed the pain a bit. But not enough.

The only sound that crawled around the dim office was the _scritch-scratch-scritch _of North's quill. But he wasn't answering children's letters; no, those were in the ever increasing pile in the corner, unopened and unread. North was writing to a very old friend– one he had not called upon since the dark ages. This could be seen in North's rough handwriting beneath the greeting.

_I know it has been a long time, old friend, but I have something to ask of you._

_It is said that since before the Dark Ages, the Æsir have gathered men from Earth (Midgard) who have died noble deaths in order to have a valiant army on the day of Ragnarok, and that the spirits of these men are kept in the eternal heaven of Asgard: Valhalla. Recently, a young Midgardian spirit, Jack Frost (Also known as Jokul Frosti) was killed in a battle with the Nightmare King. He died bravely, trying to save his comrades. _

_I know such a meaningful death would not go unnoticed by the Æsir, and wished to ask, my friend:_

_Is there anyway that I and the other Guardians of Childhood could seek his spirit in Valhalla to reconcile? _

_I know your rules. I know your customs. But this child was taken too soon from us. He has found a special place in our hearts as one of our own. He was and is like a son to me. And you of all people should know how strong a father's love can be for a son._

_Sincerely, _

_Nicholas St. North_

_Guardian of Wonder_

North sealed the envelope and held it tightly, sending a silent prayer to whoever may be listening that it would reach its destination safely. As an afterthought, he scrawled its destination on the blank face.

North slipped the window open, feeling the frigid North wind roll over his face. Jack's companion had stayed near the pole long after its rider's death, making itself known when it howled and sobbed at night, throwing itself at the doors and windows out of pure despair.

"Please do me this favor, North Wind." He whispered into the rushing air, his own words tugged off his lips the instant the formed, "You know what to do."

He stretched his hand out into the flow, feeling the paper flap and flutter in his grasp as the wind tugged at it. North closed his eyes, whispered one last prayer, and released the precious letter into the wind's cradle. He watched as the wind carried it up, higher and higher and whisked it across the glow of the full moon, briefly making a dark shape that North could see...

When brilliant rainbow light erupted from the moon and swallowed the letter whole before retreating inwards and away until it vanished.

And North stood there, staring at the full moon.

KEY:

Ragnarok: the prophesied Doomsday of the Norse Gods.

Æsir: The council of Norse gods.

Asgard: Home of the Norse Gods.

Valhalla: The heaven of Asgard where the spirits of people who die valiant deaths go, to be an army on the day of Ragnarok.

Midgard: What Asgardians call Earth.

Jokul Frosti: The Jack Frost of Norse Mythology.

Thanks! review and tell me if you have questions!


	12. Identity

**Yo people! I tried to fit in some cookie sweetness here but I don't think I did very well. Any pointers? **

**I'm planning to update The Little Guys Story soon. Yeah. SCHOOLS ALMOST HERE YAH FORCED ENTHUSIASM!**

**enjoy!**

Benji began to laugh too.

It wasn't just a giggle or a chuckle.

This was belly laughter that made Benji's stomach ache wonderfully, the kind that filled him up like sweet lemonade.

Still laughing, he found himself with his arms in the correct holes and stumbled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support while his father gripped the doorframe. They were both in stitches.

They stopped for breath at the same time, still unable to hold back the occasional burst of giggles. Benji grinned at his dad before he realized what he was doing.

His legs carried him forward and threw him into his father's— _his daddy's_ arms.

Benji held on so tight. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks and staining his father's shirt, which smelled distinctly like coffee.

Tony was in shock. His brain was screaming wildly; the practical part was rebelling in fits of denial and the rest, the creativity, the innovation, the strive to make better things in the world— he thought he was figuratively deaf now that they had woken up from their nap. You see, Tony had locked them away when the his children had left. But now they were awake, and ready.

He didn't necessarily believe in God, though he had hoped and prayed and begged to anyone who had been listening for this moment. He didn't really believe in miracles, (All were simply explained by rare but easily possible scientific explanations), yet he knew it was take sim sort of phenomena to bring them back. But he had never really believed that this would come true. A wish come true, but better. So much better.

Tony believed.

Jack shuddered from his kneeling position on the bathroom floor.

Whatever he had last eaten, he bet it hadn't tasted this bad going _down_.

His body convulsed uncontrollably again and he retched into the porcelain toilet, shaking with the sheer agony of the experience. His mouth yawned open on its own accord, and he felt the sickly, warm, vile substance gurgle from his throat and fall from his lips. He tried to breathe, to moan, to do anything, but he was paralyzed, his own cries of pain resonating in his ears.

Then, the grip of the convulsions released his rigid muscles and Jack frantically spat the bitter, repulsive taste from his mouth, gritting his teeth and wrapping around arms around himself to ward off the chills, his chest heaving.

His sweatshirt lay in a heap on the other side of the bathroom where it had been cast in Jack's frantic movements to reach the trash can or toilet in time. He wanted to reach for it, but he never knew when a new spasm would hit and didn't want to risk the shirt or the floor. Why did he have to be the one with the sensitive stomach?

His thoughts drifted back to where he woke up and it all clicked together. In his rush to find Benji and his dad, he had instinctively pulled out the IV needle. His dad must have been feeding them intravenously, just the necessary nutrients. And if he was reacting like this, he would have to start bringing a carton of orange juice around with him every where so he wouldn't get scurvy or something crazy like that.

_Wrong time to think about food_, He thought.

His stomach emptied itself once more. He repeated the process once again, starting to feel really tired of it all. But when he sat back against the wall, breathing heavily, his mind felt clearer and so did his midsection. He stood up shakily, his knees feeling like water, and braced his hands against the now wonderfully cool counter top. He grimaced as he rinsed his mouth with tap water.

Ugh. It was like Dad had fed them nothing but rubbing alcohol.

He dared to look up in the mirror, observing his body. He wasn't being narcissistic, but wondered if he had changed in any other ways than the obvious. The size of his thin shoulders was exaggerated by tension of his muscles, and his weak chest heaved as he fought to overcome the tightness that was left behind from the nausea. The masses of light freckles that dusted his back, shoulders, arms, cheeks were still there, seeming to be a little darker and more noticeable than before. No, _they_ didn't get _darker_; his _skin_ had become _lighter_. Paler.

Jack stared at his hands, which were bearing close to his full weight and were _understandably_ pale.

Then he raised his head to the mirror and met his own eyes.

But they were _blue_. _Inexplicably_ _blue_. But _he _didn't have blue eyes. His were supposed to be chocolate brown, like his Dad's.

Like dad. Like dad. Like dad.

But if they were blue, how could they belong to Jackson Stark?

And his hair...

It was white. White like freshly fallen snow, white like printer paper, white like the whites of the eyes.

But his hair wasn't white. His was meant to be brown. A deep, chestnut brown, just like Benji's.

Like Benji. Like Benji. Like Benji.

He met his blue eyes again. He stared at himself. His bright eyes were wide. His pupils were dilated. His eyes were brighter in color but somehow darker in spirit.

_How can this be me? How can this be me?_

But... Who else could he be? Who else could he be than Jackson Michael Howard Stark?

_He_ loved playing pranks. _He_ had a love for AstroNuclear Physics. _He_...

Jack grimaced and tried to think clearly. To think _rationally_. Compare and deduct, compare and deduct...

_Jackson Stark had a twin brother._

This Jack has a twin brother.

_Jackson Stark had no mother._

This Jackson has no mother.

_Jackson Stark..._

He was Jackson Stark.

He _had _to be.

SO UMM PLEASE REVIEW!


	13. Journey to Asgard

Odin Allfather was rather confused when Frey, son of Niord, told him he had a letter from Midgard (or Earth, as it was known to the Human mortals) and brought it to him as he sat on the high seat, Lidskialf.

Odin remembered everything that had happened in the history of the universes, from the planting of the great tree of life, Yggdrasil, to every war with the giants, to Iduna, the lovely lady with the apples of immortality, to her husband and his son, Bragi, and Bragi's brothers: the one-armed Tyr, the gatekeeper Heimdall, Uller, Hermodur, Vidar, Hodur and Bladur (the twins of dark and light respectively), the hero Vali, and Thor, the god of thunder. He could recall the dwarves making the magnificent but dangerously alluring necklace Brisingamen. Every trick his blood brother, Loki, had ever played was within his reach, as well as every oath Loki had lost or broken, from having his lips sewn together to losing an eating contest with Utgardhaloki's man, Logi. He recalled his mortal servant, Thialfi, a young man who, while swift, could not beat the giant Hugi in a race.

So, of course, one could see why he would not immediately think of a Midgardian spirit, Nicholas St. North, who had not been seen since Midgard's dark ages.

As he read the letter, he admitted he was (slightly) impressed by all that Nicholas recalled from their brief time together. He nodded to himself absentmindedly; everything the man said about Ragnarok was true; though, he did not recall a Jokul Frosti joining their ranks at Valhalla, but perhaps Frey had welcomed him in. His heart was warmed when he saw that North had written that he cared for the Jokul boy as a son, even though he was not his own. Odin could not help but close his eyes and revel in the joy and happiness of his son Baldur, the pride he felt for his son Thor, the hope of Vidar and the bravery of Tyr. Yes, Odin loved his sons, even though he had many, mortal and immortal. All of the mortal sons had died long ago, but he still remembered the valiance and bravery of his mortal sons Sigi, Revir, Volsung, Sigmund, and Sigurd.

He remembered when Baldur had been lost to them, when his blind, dark brother Hodur had pierced him with a holly dart. The grief had weighed like a heavy, thick fog over Asgard for many months, dampening the good spirits whenever one would keenly feel his absence. Odin would not wish that agony on any man, spirit, god, or giant.

With that, he called forth the beautiful Freya, sister of Frey and husband of Odur, goddess of beauty and fertility and love. "Go to Midgard," He instructed her, "And find the man Nicholas St. North. Bring him here Asgard so that he might see Valhalla."

So Freya fastened her magical cloak around her shoulders and set out for the Bifrost, the great rainbow bridge between worlds, and Heimdall the gatekeeper sent her to Midgard in a swirling vortex of rainbow light.

North was thankfully in a better, cleaner state when a soft knock was heard on the doors of the pole. (The Yetis had persuaded him to bathe and put on fresh clothes and his beard was just a bit damp when the noise was heard).

He had been feeling slightly better, and was not sure to expect in regards to the letter. Odin was a god, after all— he had a sort of unspoken status over even the immortals of Midgard. And perhaps Odin had forgotten all about him— they had only spent a short time together, uniting to fight the Pitch and the Frost Giants.

But when he heard the knock, just three gentle but firm raps on the wooden door, he found him self frantically coming up with people who it had to be that were not Odin. (Perhaps, Bunny, taking the long way?) Why? Because if there was one thing that had happened to Nicholas St. North, it was that he had lost his hope. It couldn't be Odin; it wasn't anyone to help; things just didn't work like that.

When he opened the door, he was more confused than ever on what to feel.

A beautiful woman with hair the color of spun sunshine and eyes the color of a bright spring sky stood before him, her mouth turned up in a gracious and polite smile. She sank gracefully into a curtsy before saying in a clear, sweet voice that fell on his ears like sunlight on the purest river, "Lord Nicholas of Midgard, my King Odin Allfather has granted your request to journey to Valhalla to seek your lost one."

North blinked. Once, twice.

Freya smiled at his shock gently.

Something warm in North's chest blossomed slowly, like a sprout of fire that was maturing into a flower.

It was hope, brought on by a few simply words.

North cleared his throat. "I shall call the others, Lady Freya."

"Are ya sure this is safe, Sheila?" Bunny, despite all his efforts, could not stop doubt that flooded his veins like liquid lead as he, Freya, and the other Guardians except Sandy shivered outside in the freezing weather, who had said that there was a special case that he had to see to. Freya, however, appeared unaffected by the biting winds and freezing temperature.

"Quite safe, Bunnymund," Freya replied politely. "Heimdall shall transport us to Asgard, and from there, I and another will escort you to Valhalla with King Odin's permission so you may seek your lost one."

She returned her gaze to the cloudless North Pole sky as if searching for something. "Although," She said, a trace of honey and another of mischief, nearly undetectable, slipping into her voice. "The Bifrost has only been fixed from complete destruction rather recently. I should say that not many have used it before us."

"D-destruction?" Stammered Bunny, wrapping his arms and paws around himself. "W-what d-d-destroyed it?"

"Oh, simply Lord Thor." She stated airily, waving a hand. "Although," She said again, feigning bemusement, "This number of souls rarely transport at one time. I know someone attempted it, and I believe... No, I must have heard wrong."

"W-what?" Asked Bunnymund, his eyes widening. North's mouth twitched as he saw what Freya was attempting.

"Well, I heard the last time a group this large attempted the journey, there was an accident and they appeared in Jotunheim."

"What's that?" Asked Tooth, pausing briefly from giving her fairies orders to inquire the Goddess's statement.

"The most desolate, cruelest, coldest planet in all the universe." North said, exaggerating a bit. "Nothing but miles and miles of _freezing, desolate, snowy land, _no matter where you go. No where to get warm."

"Oh, here comes Heimdall." Freya suddenly said, her voice overly-cheery and bright. Bunny's screams and protests were drowned out and swallowed by a hurricane of rainbow light. They all felt themselves sucked irresistibly forward, their feet pulled from the ground, and shooting through the vortex at warp speed. Not even Tooth had ever gone this fast. Everything blurred and twisted and they lost all sense of direction as North's face felt as if it was peeling off—

Their feet slammed into the ground.

"What?! No, we can't go to the bloody–"

Gold swirled in their vision before solidifying into a room, coming into a dome far above their heads. Everything glowed richly, as if lit by a huge furnace. Bunny's protests were cut short as his mouth fell open at the sight.

Freya's hand was clasped over her mouth, presumably hiding a great smile.

A handsome man, clad in the same golden armor, stood attentively by the door that led out of the room. He smiled warmly at them. "Lady Freya." He greeted her. "And you must be Odin's guests." He inclined his head to the three Guardians, who nodded nervously back. He turned back to Freya. "Tyr will be escorting you and the others to Valhalla." With that, he simply moved out of the doorway and let them pass. Freya gave a nod and smile of thanks as the Guardians followed her out of the door— and into Asgard.

To North, it was paradise. A golden city, bathed in eternal light, yet emerald grass grew all around with tall trees and brilliant flowers that sparkled like jewels. It was a rural city, a phenomena in its very existence,

To Tooth, it was heaven. All sorts of men, women and children laughed, played, and talked like equals in the soft grass and wide spaces. A few Norse wind spirit children played some sort of tag above their heads as they zoomed through the air, laughing and flying. Everyone seemed happy and content, like they were doing all they wanted and getting it done.

For once, Bunny was speechless.

Freya led them to the edge of the shining gardens, where a man was waiting for them. As they drew closer, they realized that he seemed to radiate something– something powerful and strong that penetrated past their chests and seeped straight into their hearts. He turned towards them, observing the three with dark, soulful eyes, almost like swirling ink with lighter hues, which seemed to match well with his messy golden hair and tanned skin. If the other Gods in the garden looked handsome because they were perfectly styled, their was something more rugged about this man. He looked handsome without trying, and the guardians couldn't see it any other way. "Hello, Freya." He rumbled, his voice deep and powerful. "And greetings, Midgard guests." The three nodded nervously once again.

"Hello, Tyr." Said Freya brightly. He gave her a small smile before beckoning them further away from the gaily laughing crowds and into the mist that sprang up suddenly from the grass. As he turned, the Guardian's hearts leapt into their throats and shock tore through their chests when they saw that his right arm ended in a stump.

The words jumped from Tooth's mouth before she could stop them. "What happened to your arm?" She smacked her hand over the offending mouth, but it was too late to take them back.

But Tyr just smiled vaguely at her and said in a low voice laced with bitterness, "We were trying to chain Frenrir the Wolf with a magical cord- Gleipneir- the dwarves had created. It was made of the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, a fish's breath, the sinews of a bear, the roots of a mountain, and spittle of a bird. But we had tried many chains before on the him, all of which he had broken, and he had grown wary. He refused to allow the cord on him unless one of the Æsir placed their hand in his mouth."

"And..." The color drained from Tooth's face. "_Oh_."

Tyr gave her another vague smile, but it seemed sadder now, frustrated. "I am immortal, so the wound healed." He casually observed the stump of his wrist, which was so smooth and unmarked that it appeared to have always been that way. "But— this is no time for sad stories!"

The mist suddenly parted as if it had never been there and gave way into the most glorious sight.

There are simply no words to describe Valhalla. Some believe this is because everyone sees it differently, as their own paradise. When the Guardians would look back on this, they would only recall the deepest feeling of wonder and a desire to go back.

Tyr led them into something more tangible, though still stunning— a great hallway, made of silvers and golds and platinums with a high, arching ceiling. At the far end was a huge window, displaying more of Valhalla's wonders. Right before the window was a solid column of mist, perhaps seven feet tall. They followed Tyr and Freya into the mist— and when they emerged, they were in a massive hall, intricately carved designs sprawling across the walls, depicting a man on a golden throne with a winged helmet. Before him, many of the Gods bowed.

Throughout the hall, tables of immense length stretched along. Men and women warriors from all eras lined their benches, laughing, talking, toasting, and sharing stories. Near to them, a young man, no older than nineteen, was wearing a modern United States military uniform and a somber expression. He raised his drink and said solemnly, "To Ricky." His friends murmured the same and downed their glasses. One of them, an older man, said gruffly, "Don't look so down, Jeff. You saved your men."

"Yeah," Jeff smiled slightly. "I did, didn't I, Sam?"

As Tyr scanned the room, the Guardians shifted their attention to a young woman, her brown hair tied back in a ponytail. "Yes," She was saying, "I was a teacher in Connecticut. There was a, um... There was a man with a gun. I had my students hiding in the cabinets, and I told him that they were in the gym. He got angry, I guess, and he..." She hesitated, and the other woman she was talking to patted her on the back sympathetically.

"Guardians?" The three turned to Tyr.

Freya said gently, "You may search. If he was immortal, you will find him within the era he was born." She pointed to the third table, where several men in capes and colonial outfits were talking and laughing.

The Guardian's swallowed in unison. This was it. This was where they would find their Jack.

Would he forgive them?

**Tyr- minor Norse God of War and Justice. **

**Freya- Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Fertility. **

**Frey- Brother of Freya. **

**Heimdall- the Gatekeeper/security guard of Asgard. **

**Lidskialf- the high seat of Odin. **

**Bifrost- the rainbow bridge from Asgard to other worlds. **

**Loki- blood brother to Odin, member of the Æsir.**

**If you have any questions, let me know! Reunion up next! Reviews make it come faster!**


	14. A Reunion of Sons and Brothers

Jack closed his eyes and relaxed, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He had to relax. He didn't want Benji to freak out anymore than he already was. It hurt Jack, with raw blows that felt like knives in his chest, to see his brother look at him with nervously, like he was afraid of him. Jack knew Benji was trying to hide it, and trying not to be afraid, but he had seen it already in the quick glances and tight lips.

The wood floor felt slick beneath his cold feet, and the marble countertop seemed too slippery to his numb fingers.

He didn't know what the hell he had been thinking about when he spouted the knowledge about Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny, and some dude named North who had something to do with elves.

It's official. I'm losing my mind. He said it very frankly and cooly in his head, but, um...yep, no idea what mental pit trash bin that surfaced from like a bloated whale on crack...

Suddenly, the welcome darkness behind his eyelids flashed with bright white light, Jack's knees gave out from under him—

_He was running. Gliding, skating, actually, across smooth, glossy ice- a frozen pond. It was dark and starry, but the large full moon beamed brightly down on him, chasing away the darkness as his bare feet whisked across the slippery surface. He was laughing with joy and wonder, twirling and spinning around at inhuman speeds. He felt powerful- more powerful than ever. He felt young and strong and safe and infinite. He was hopeful. There was nothing he couldn't do._

_Then, the ice fell away beneath him! But he didn't fall; something picked him up and cast him into the sky! He felt as if he was swimming in the glittering stars, riding invisible currents that let him soar around and around. He was hovering now; his arms were spread out on either side of him, far above the towering tree-tops as the perfectly freezing wind blasted refreshingly through his face and ruffled his cloak. Even far beneath him, he could see dazzling frost spreading and blooming across the pond like a giant, fast-growing fern. Had he done that?! _

_Then, the wind ceased, and he was left hanging in the air for an instant— and he fell. He dropped like a rock, numb and scattered, a scream torn from his throat as the bristling tree tops rushed up to meet him–!_

Jack gasped and his eyes snapped open. He had partially fallen in his daze. One arm was wrapped painfully around the strip of counter-top where it dropped away to form the sink, and his free hand was clenched over the cold neck of the faucet. That was all the supported his weight as his legs hung limp beneath him. Shuddering, he stumbled back to his feet, releasing his death grip on the appliances. It stung slightly where the corners and points had dug into his skin, but it was rapidly fading.

What was that? It seemed so real- like a flashback. But– but I was flying. Humans can't just fly like that! A dream, maybe? Some part of him doubted that for some reason, but the rational part of him agreed it was the most logical explanation. He was tired; he must have just dozed off for a second.

He scrubbed his face with his hands- and froze when he felt the frigid temperature of his skin...like he had just come inside from a cold wind.

He shook his head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. It didn't matter, it didn't matter...

He slipped the sweatshirt over his head and pushed his arms smoothly through the sleeves, feeling comfort wrap around his heart like a blanket. He always wore this when he was stressed, and even now it did the trick.

He slipped out of the bathroom, trying to ignore the shakiness in his legs, and limped back towards his room. He put his hand on the knob, turned it, and opened the door.

Benji eyes caught him and he grinned.

He was embracing somebody.

That somebody turned towards Jack, and he felt his throat constrict.

Jack stared at the man who was his father, barely a foot away, and he couldn't help the uncertainty that flooded his veins like liquid nitrogen. Would he think Jack was a freak? An accident? Jack had seen brilliant ideas, amazing inventions... crumpled up in to balls of paper and wires and tossed in the trash can, to forever be forgotten and discarded. What if that's how his dad saw him? What if that's how he ended up?

Deeper lines and wrinkles creased Tony's face, and dark bags hung heavy under his eyes. His shirt was stained with coffee, he had a patchy, week-old stubble, and had obviously not slept for over thirty-six hours.

Tony reached out...

...And pulled Jack fiercely into a hug with the two of them.

Jack wrapped his arm around father, burying his face in his shirt, fighting the shake in his shoulders as he fought back tears of relief. His dad still loved him! He believed in him, he wouldn't be alone! He felt Benji's shoulder against his own and wrapped his free arm around his brother, who returned the gesture.

It may have looked like the group hug in the movies, but it wasn't really like that. Instead of random people just frozen in a fake embrace, waiting for the hug to be over, Jack wanted to never let go. He wanted to hold on to the contact he'd been starved of, he wanted to hang tightly to his family.

His family.

Jack's family.

Jack had a family.

Why was that so foreign? He didn't know, yet for once he didn't give a damn, if you would excuse his language. He simply savored the moments, feeling Benji's warm arm across his shoulders, and his dad's slightly cooler one against his back. It was the feeling of family.

Three embraced each other as family long lost, and finally found each other once again.

That was all that mattered.

~In Valhalla~

The Guardians approached a group of young men in capes and colonial clothes that sat at a table near the other end of the hall. Their hearts hammered in their chests. They were almost afraid to look at one of the boys, who were turned away from them, for fear it was Jack.

Tooth glanced at Bunny and North's pale faces and steeled herself. She flew forward, motioning for the them to stay behind, until she was close enough to one of the boys— a brunet. Fighting the shaking in her hand, she tapped on his shoulder. He twisted to look at her— and she was met with green eyes.

She released a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"Hello." The boy smiled warmly. His shaggy brown hair fell in his eyes and his eyes sparkled like emeralds. He looked to be about nineteen.

"He–hello." Tooth stammered back. Together, they had were attracting the rest of the group's attention as everyone in their section turned to look at them. "I'm...I'm looking for a Jack Frost...?" Their stares on her, the green and browns and hazels and soft blues and even ambers, made her statement sound more like a question.

"Sorry Ma'am," Said the first boy. "There aren't any Jack Frosts here." Tooth felt her heart plummet to the Earth below, and panic swelled in its place. He had to be here; he had to be!

"As if you would know, Kai," Another boy teased, his hazel eyes glittering with mischief behind a lock of blonde hair.

"There's plenty of us here, and its not like you know everyone." Chuckled another, his ruddy cheeks flushed with laughter.

Kai huffed. "Oh, shut it, Everett. And ya can't blame me, Owen!"

"He...he lived in Burgess, Pennsylvania." Tooth said, her voice sounding small. "He had brown hair, and brown eyes...?"

Blank stares.

"He loved pulling pranks." She said hopefully.

Nothing.

"His name might not have been Frost, it could have been something else."

Suddenly, a boy near the back piped up. "Did he have a sister?"

"Yes!" Tooth yelped, her heart tightening in her chest. "He died when he saved her from falling through the ice on a frozen pond."

Everyone whipped around to stare at the boy who had spoken. He looked to be about fifteen, with brown hair and chocolate colored eyes. He was gaping at Tooth. Without taking his eyes off her, he rose from his bench and walked over to her like he was in a dream. He stuck out his hand.

"I'm Christian Overland." He said slowly. "And when I was nine, my older brother saved my twin sister, Caroline, from falling through the ice." He swallowed thickly. "His name was Charles Jackson Overland, and he was fourteen." He drew in a breath. "But we just called him Charlie, and sometimes Jack."

"Wait..." Everett, the blonde hazel-eye, drawled out the word, his eyes widening. "Are you... Are you talking about Grace's fiancé?"

"Yes! Yes, him!" Cried Owen. "I remember Charlie Overland!"

"Yes!" Said another. "He and my brother Will were the best of friends."

"Wait!" Tooth yelped, losing track. "What do you mean? Fiancé? Who's Grace? And are you sure his name's _Charles_?" She asked incredulously.

Instantly, all conversation among them quieted and they all turned to look at her. "Why does it matter to _you_?" Asked Kai, the first boy. His tone was more curious than anything, but underneath there was a thin layer of accusation.

"He was... He was a spirit. Like me. I knew him... We were like family."

Kai gave her a long look, then turned to Christian. "Do you want us to tell her? We don't have to tell her anything, if you don't want to."

For a moment, Christian stared at his lap. Then he nodded to Kai, who shrugged.

"So...Charlie Overland..." He drawled, "Where to start, really? He had a little sister, Caroline, and a little brother, Christian. His parents were Mary and Isaac." Kai grinned as Jarod, one of Charlie's closest friends, picked up.

"He was a complete trickster," Jarod laughed. "I remember our prime target was either my father or Mr. Burgess. He said it was because we needed to remind them to have fun. But then, he found out he was betrothed to Grace Green— Everett's younger sister."

"Betrothed?" Asked Tooth, bewildered. Jack didn't seem to be that kind of person.

"Yes." Confirmed Everett. "Gracie didn't know either until the two of them were in their teens. Apparently, one of _Charlie's_ grandparents offended one of _our_ grandparents and as payment he gave up his eldest grandchild to be married into the family."

"They took it well." Interjected Owen.

"They did." Acknowledged Everett. "But they fought first. Gracie was fourteen, and Charlie was fifteen. If you knew Charlie—"

"He was a free spirit," finished Tooth softly. Her eyes were distant and her mind whirled. There was magic– distant and rare, very, very rare– that would allow what she thought had happened to happen...but the chances- it was just so slim...it was almost impossible.

Everett paused. "...yes." he said slowly. "You really knew him, didn't you?"

"Yes, I..." Tooth replied with half a mind. She shook herself, hardly daring to believe it. "Anyway..." She stammered, "Is he _here_?"

Everett frowned and looked at the others, who shook their heads. "No, ma'am," he sighed. "Charlie didn't come here. If I had to guess–"

"No. No, that's fine." Said Tooth quickly. She knew everything she needed to. If this was true–

"Is there anything else we can do for you?" Offered Christian. She spared a glance at Jack's brother. She saw the desperation in his eyes. He wanted to see Jack as much as they did.

"No." She said gently. "No, but..." She looked around the table, at the kind, eager eyes and open faces, unchanged by makeup or tattoos or piercings. These people were pure. Their hearts were nothing but kindness. "Thank you." She said firmly. "For everything." She started to turn, meaning to leave.

"Tell him I kept protecting her."

"What?" Tooth looked back at Christian, puzzled.

The boy stared back, his eyes just slightly frantic. "I'm up here because I died saving Caroline from a fire." His voice wobbled. "Just...just let him know...please? That she wasn't alone...? When– when you find him. Charlie. Jack, I mean."

She gave him a long look. He was Jack's family. Family. And family bonds could never be severed.

"I will," She said finally, looking at all the heroes. "I promise."

"So is he here?" Asked Bunny eagerly as she flew up to him.

"No." She sighed. "No, he's not. But I found out a lot about him." She could feel Christian's gaze burning into her back.

"Well, eef he iz not here, where could he be?" North's voice was so heartbroken and crestfallen that all considerations to wait to tell them flew out the window.

"I think I know." She said firmly. "But before I'm sure, we need to look up a list of people who died or were dying the day Jack did."

**Ok, I'm really sorry if that reunion was crappy. But guys, I NEED your reviews. I need to know whats bad and whats good to make this story better. Like, there has been over 10,000 VIEWS to this story (OMG THATS AWESOME) and 95 REviews of this story (THATS AMAZING TOO!) but no one reviewed for the longest time and I thought you guys lost interest. Plus, SOPA has been scaring me. I OWN NOTHING! Nothing is mine! This is just a story written by a fan! Avengers and RotG belong to Marvel and Dreamworks! Lol. Enjoy and REVIEW!**


	15. Unexpected Consequences

**Hey! It's me! Happy Friday! I worked FORVER on this chapter! I hope you like it! Review!**

Their reunion was ended by frustrated shouts and the stomping of boots.

As the sound reverberated through the door, suddenly close, Tony reluctantly drew out of the hug. He'd have to deal with Fury and the others– there was no way out, now. He turned his gaze to his sons – his sons– questioning eyes, trying to ignore how Jack's were unnervingly blue, and tried to speak. He even got as far as opening his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat like cement.

"Visitors?" Asked Benji shrewdly.

"Yeah." It came out as a sigh. "Listen, guys..." He frantically racked his brains. "There's too much for me to tell you right now, and I need you to roll with it. It's kind of...tricky, what's happened. I just need to get them off my back, kay?"

"What did you do?" Asked Benji bluntly. Tony winced slightly.

"Your recovery...it wasn't spontaneous. I used a refined form of some new element to bring you back. Nothing illegal, because I got it from the blood of a willing test subject. But... I can't explain that to Fury. He wouldn't leave it alone. So I just need something to explain your...revival...and the traces of the element."

"Maybe we could help." Interjected Jack. To Tony's shock, there was an oh-so-familiar glint of mischief in his foreign blue eyes. He turned to his brother. "You think we could pull off the snarky-arrogant-rich-kid-I-don't-give-a-crap stunt?"

Before Benji could reply, he said, "Well, I really don't need to ask about you–"

Laughter, real laughter once again burbled up in their stomachs and flew from their mouths like flocks of birds. Snorting, Benji laughed, "Yeah, Jack, I think we got this."

"M'kay! Let's confuse these guys so hard they won't know what smacked them upside the head and spanked 'em to Jersey!" Jack artfully placed the infamous Jersey Shore accent on the last word, making Tony and Benji fight down laughter once more.

"Let's roll!" Grinned Benji. Tony, ecstatic beyond belief at the prospect of doing this, and with his sons no less, immediately adopted the correct persona.

He grabbed the doorknob and swung lazily into the hallway. Jack and Benji hung back, waiting for their cue.

"Yo! Fury!" They heard him call out. "You done playing the bipolar circus boy?"

"Stark!" The sharp, annoyed syllable made the twins flinch, and they shared a glance. "What is wrong with you?! We are trying to conduct a matter of national security! If you aren't serious with me this instant, I'll–"

"What?" Jack put dripping skepticism into the word, sticking his head out if the doorway.

"You'll send him to his room?" Benji exited their room as well, mimicking Jack's sarcasm flawlessly.

Fury's open mouth snapped shut and his eyes– oh, God– eye narrowed.

Benji and Jack shared a gleeful glance at each other. The things they could do with this!

Fury's eye was darting from Benji, to Jack, to Benji, to Tony, to Benji's eyes, to Jack's hair, back to Tony. Jack fought down a surge of panic. He was already putting the puzzle together? This guy was good!

Knowing he had to ramp it up, Jack leaned against the wall, pasting an arrogant look onto his face, in Fury's direct line of sight, while Benji stood near the opposite wall, bracing his back against so Fury only saw his profile. It would draw more attention to Jack- specifically his hair and eyes, and add more questions to Fury's endless list.

They'd been trained in the art of misdirection since they could walk.

"Who are they?" Fury finally said, his eyes hard. Tony started to answer, but Jack cut him off. He made his voice drawl frustratingly slow and gave his father a cold smirk.

"Ah, shut it, Pops." He pushed off the wall as Tony acted like this was normal behavior.

"We," stated Benji, echoing Jack's tone perfectly, "Are his kids. As in, that's our dad. Get it, Captain?" He explained it as if he was talking to a three year old. Benji crossed his arms. "Sorry, but am I supposed to look at the eye or eyepatch?"

They could feel the shock radiating from the other members of the team as they rounded the corner of the hallway and saw them. Their desire to splutter was almost tangible, but Fury managed to sum them up.

"According to official reports, Tony Stark's children perished in a fire–"

"Now dude, you need to tell me: How fun was that?" Benjamin cut Fury off cleanly as if he didn't exist, turning to Jack.

Jack grinned in response. "Awesome! I was not expecting such a huge explosion! We're damn lucky (arrogant kids cussed, right?) that we weren't there when it happened, though, or we would have kicked the bucket!"

"But—" Stammered Clint weakly, "The reports– two kids, they said–"

"Not us." Said Benji nonchalantly, rolling his eyes. "Just some idiots who got in the way. Don't know why the Press thought we were dead."

"The memorial service." Stated Fury, his dark eye a slit. "Your injuries," He said to Tony.

"An accident." Said Tony loftily. "Wrong place, wrong time. And the service? Just my part in making the charade go a little further. It's so touching his many people responded."

For a moment, Fury was silent.

"And the Tesseract?"

"The bonding properties." Drawled Tony. "Traces of the element were left behind from last time, and I was trying to eliminate them."

Eyes darted all over the place, trying to determine false truths, although Tony was sure that they had everyone convinced. Their SHEILD cover story, maybe temporary, could just be that there was an accident and the boys had been alive all along, and content to let everyone think so. It was a bit far-fetched, but Fury has seen some crazy things.

Finally, Fury said, his voice heavy, "Then I guess my business is done here." With a swirl of his leather trench coat, he was gone, every one else but Captain America following behind.

As soon as the door closed, Benji, Jack, and Tony all crumpled to the floor, laughing, while poor Steve stood just staring at the three of them. As if it wasn't bizarre enough to see two boys that were in a coma up and walking, he had to see a grown man on the ground, laughing like a child.

He was so confused. At last, Tony stood up, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, and clapped Steve on the shoulder. "C'mon, Rogers." He laughed. "Let's make some introductions."

"So you were faking it." Steve dead panned.

"O' curse!" Mumbled Benji around a donut.

"Y' didn' think we err dat bad, righ'?" Continued Jack through his sugary breakfast, his cheeks bulging.

Steve just shook his head, bewildered, staring at the twins with wide eyes as they stuffed their faces with donuts and orange juice. They were all sitting at the breakfast bar with a boatload of donuts and pastries from the closest bakery that JARVIS had ordered. Steve didn't quite understand how the AI had known, but he'd learned to stop questioning Tony and his gadgets.

"And when was the last time you two ate?"

"When was the last time we were awake?" Asked Benji rhetorically, swallowing and raising his dark eyebrows to Steve in a familiar expression.

"I'm surprised you too _can_ eat." Observed Tony thoughtfully as he chewed a scone. "I thought you'd be hacking up the intravenous fluid before you could stomach all this."

Benji just shrugged, but Jack set down his third donut. "Yeah. Done that." He grimaced.

Tony's eyes widened. "B–W–are you okay?"

Jack waved a hand, throwing back another glass of juice. "Am now."

For a moment, there was comfortable silence.

"So..." Benji started tentatively. "I'll mention the one of the elephants in the room. Official reports say we're dead, huh?" Tony sighed.

"Yeah. All public records say so, and only a few of the connections I have in the government know about it. But other than that...yeah, the world thinks you're...dead. Didn't want to have to deal with any human rights activists."

"And where does Mr. America come in?" Asked Jack. Tony's mouth quirked.

"Firstly, it's Captain America. Second, a few months ago, that eyepatch guy you saw recruited me, him, and a few other freaks to take down a vengeful Norse God and his army of aliens."

Steve wanted to spit out his juice very much like a tv actor when the twins nodded like it was the most common thing in the world.

"Steve was where your serum came from. He became super soldier a long time ago when he volunteered for an experimental serum run. I just took the serum from his blood, made a few of my own modifications, and popped it in with your IV fluid. And viola!"

He looked extremely pleased with himself.

"Well, okay, but–" Jack stopped mid sentence and glanced and Benji. "But...why do I look like this?" He tugged on a lock of his silver white hair.

Tony hesitated.

The twin's eyes widened.

"Ben..." Said Jack slowly, a grin curling across his lips in spite of his confusion.

"I _know_..." Benji dragged out, his eyes glittering.

"I think..."

"He's gonna _say_ it..."

Tony was glaring at his sons with narrowed eyes, but his shoulders were slumped with defeat. He looked away and mumbled something.

"What was that?" Asked Jack innocently, his blue eyes twinkling.

"We didn't quite catch that." Said Benji, poker-faced.

"I don't know." Tony mumbled.

"What?"

"I...don't...know." He bit out each word like he was chewing on barbed wire.

The effect was instantaneous.

"YES!"

Jack leaped out of his seat and began to do a crazy dance around the room, twirling around with his hands in the air. Benji copied his moves perfectly, making them look like some kind of mentally challenged ballet as they chanted, "He said it! He said it! Finally!"

Benji froze and said, "And now you've sold your soul!"

He kept dancing.

Steve choked back laughter at the two and turned to Tony, his eyebrows furrowed. "Do they do that often?"

Tony groaned, burying his face deeper in his hands. "Only when they've won something."

"What did they win?"

"My soul."

Steve blinked. Tony glanced at Steve through his fingers before mumbling, "JARVIS's access codes."

Steve patted Tony on the back.

Nick Fury narrowed his eye at the computer screen, perusing the state official records of those who had died, keyword Stark. This was as high-level as he could get, even with SHIELD's access. He'd found confirmation of fact that Benjamin and Jackson Stark, aged fifteen, had been in an accident and had been injured. But any attempt to access details of the injuries, evidence of death, or resting places was met with a high-tech fire wall. He'd contacted the site official, who'd attempted to remove the firewalls but admitted they were beyond him. He had to call in an expert who wouldn't be available until the next day.

The gears in Fury's head began to turn. Those boys that he had met at Stark's did greatly resemble Tony, if you disregarded the colors of the white hair and blue eyes on the one. But their arrogance was clearly a facade. There was something in their eyes that was too raw for that. Fury may have only one good eye, but he can see more than the average man. But why would they pretend to be so? A distraction, perhaps, but for what?

His mind whirling, Fury opened another window and typed in the keyword for primary sources. Yes, it was official in the media. Tony Stark's children, Benjamin and Jackson, had died in that fire, according to every headline of every newspaper in the country that matched the search. He clicked on a local New York paper, one that would be distributed in the areas around Stark Tower. As he suspected, the paper had acquired a picture of the twins that had presumably been taken before the accident. It took up nearly the entire front page— two teenage boys grinning cheerfully- but not arrogantly- at the camera. They were identical, with messy brown hair, tan skin– the only difference was their eyes- apparently, Jackson's were brown, and Benjamin's were green. If they aged slightly, it was clear that these were, in fact, the two boys he had met at Stark Tower, if you changed Jackson's hair and eye color– but nothing hair dye and colored contacts couldn't do.

He huffed in frustration, scrolling through more headlines.

**Funeral for Stark Twins deemed Private**

**Stark Memorial Service Interrupted by SHEILD**

Fury grimaced. He recalled that. Though, at the time, a vengeful Loki seemed a bit more important.

He hunched over the key board, his eyes distant. It all meant something, he was sure. That was logical enough. It was all about putting the puzzle together.

The firewalls... The only person with enough technological genius to firewall the most advanced browsing system in the world was one of the criminals, like Mr. Fix, or perhaps the Mandarin... Or Tony Stark. Who else would put up fire walls on these links?

Trying to remove traces... But according to Selvig, even the Tesseract couldn't leave residue that long. Then what...

A private funeral. Thought to be a sign of mourning, and accepted out of respect, but...as a cover?

Energy from the Tesseract turned a sickly man into a super soldier. Why couldn't it wake up two people from a...?

Fury hardly dared to believe it, but more pieces fell into place.

Steve had been there. Rogers had been there when Fury had arrived. Serum had turned Rogers into what he was; a modification could...

Fury abruptly closed the window and leaned back in his chair, placing his face in his hands. If this was how he thought it was, he would have a new respect for science-fiction authors.

An accident in Stark Tower. Say the Stark Twins were there. Say they, somehow, miraculously survived their injuries, but were trapped in comas. The press would want a better story; saying they fell from the tower, but that didn't have to happen. And a grieving Tony Stark, striving to beat new odds, and desperate for his only family...if Stark revealed that he was trying experimental methods on two teenagers, even if they were his sons, he would be shut down. But this was Stark they were talking about; he thought he could do anything.

Tony Stark had brought his sons back to life.

With a heavy sigh, Fury began an e-mail for the president.

As a matter of national security, this had to be investigated.

He typed, 'I request that we require that the two adolescents submit themselves to SHEILD testing and experimentation, with no guarantee of their personal safety, as to better understand how such an event took place...'

**DUN DUN DUNNNN! Review! They make it come faster!**

**benji- "No, you should just keep writing about us! Or... About ME." *flips hair like justin beiber**

**me: *rolls eyes* "No, ben. I told you I'm dating Jack Frost."**

**Benji: "But Frosty! Jack Frost is now reincarnated into my zombie brother! And we're TWINS, so—" **

**me: shocked- "Hey! LIKE I DATE FOR LOOKS! Jack has a wonderful heart, and he's nice, sweet, kind..."**

**BENJI: "..." **

**Me: *mumbles* "and he's cuter than you..."**

**"BENji- "WHAT?"**

**me: "I just reminded the readers to review!**


	16. Attempts and Trials

**BOOM! Yo people! Ok, so I know that was a mean cliffhanger I left you with, so here is a long chapter. please Review! I need your feed back! If there is anyone who wants to PM me about writing tips, styles, etc, go for it!**

**Anyone know how to insert lines? **

**-(Sandman)-**

It was strange for the sandman to be out in the daylight. He didn't mind it or anything, but it just wasn't the most common thing to do. Not to mention Sandy could sense the presences of all the children in New York, and it was odd to feel them alert and awake instead of calm and blank like a sheet of paper, waiting to be drawn on or crafted into something beautiful. But there was a reason he was here. North had just called them to the pole for some reason, but two minds had awakened— out of a long, long sleep he, the sandman, had nothing to do with. There was slightly distant air beneath the connection, suggesting that they weren't necessarily believers, but it was early enough that their minds were still raw and open from sleep– and therefore open to his dreams. That was why he had to get to them now, and remain absent from the meeting. He hoped he wasn't missing anything important.

It was midday in New York City, bright and warm and sunny. Even though it had been only a little less than a year since the battle between the humans and aliens, rubble was still piled on the street and the windows of the Chrysler building had yet to be fixed, as well as the incapacitated Empire State Building. The sun glared off the standing buildings, and throngs of people chattered in the streets below. Sandy concentrated on the link with the two minds– the connection was fading, and faster than he had anticipated. He had to hurry if he wanted to give them good dreams. Sure, it was the middle of the day, but they needed their rest, ironically. And it wasn't just that. They were still children, and it was Sandy's duty to give them good dreams, if only once. These kids would need all the positive emotions they could get, waking up after that long.

He followed the pathway to Stark Tower— apparently a big deal among the mortals. Squinting against the glare of the sun off the many glass windows, Sandy peered through the clear material, and laughed silently when he saw a familiar brown haired, green eyed teenager twirling and dancing around the living space crazily with a giant grin on his face. Despite the fact that this boy was on the verge of sixteen, he was still a child at heart.

Sandy looked past the boy to the two men sitting at the counter, one laughing, one smiling sheepishly. Sandy's smile faltered. Anthony Stark... He remembered that boy. All of the guardians did. When he was five, he believed in them. By the time he was six, he had stopped believing because of his father's rigid faith in science. He was a smart, bright boy, but he didn't have the best childhood. By now, he would be old enough to have children...

Sandy looked back to the laughing, dancing boy. He resembled Mr. Stark, greatly. Sandy sighed. Would he be able to give dreams to the children of Tony Stark? He doubted his own powers, now. He knew that Tony's wife, Patricia, was a believer until she was sixteen— because she understood the importance of childhood. Perhaps...

He commanded dreamsand to flow from his fingers and seep through the cracks in the window. He watched, hoping in spite of himself...the dreamsand spiraled up towards the boy, invisible to him, and curled around his head like a halo. Sandy's heart leaped in his chest as the boy's eyelids immediately drooped and he swayed on the spot, ceasing his childish dance. He was going to– suddenly, the boy shook his head like a dog getting water out of his ears and regaining his footing before looking up towards his dad, his mouth moving and an easy smile on his face, as if reassuring him that he was alright. The dreamsand dissipated into nothing. Sandy snapped his fingers, disappointed. He waited too long: the boy's mind was closed to him. But where was the other?

Sandy froze in shock when an amazingly familiar head of white hair appeared in the frame. Sandy blinked rapidly; was what he was seeing...real? The blue eyes, the pale skin, the exact same build– it was all him! It was all– all– he couldn't even think it– he was so hopeful his chest hurt. The only thing different was the uncharacteristic frown of worry as he put a hand on the brown-haired boy's shoulder, as if asking if he was feeling alright. The boy just shrugged off the hand, grinning cheerfully.

Hardly daring to believe it, Sandy cautiously tested the strength of his connection with the second boy. It was thin and weak, and as fragile as a toothpick, but Sandy could still feel a small opening. Holding his breath, Sandy sent in another stream of dreamsand, glinting reddish gold in the afternoon light. It slipped through the window, filtering into the room, until it twisted like a powdery ribbon and flowed behind the boy. Concentrating with all his might, Sandy watched as the dreamsand coiled in the air like a stream...and poured itself on his head, spilling down the sides of his head and cascading down his shoulders, showering him with glittering dust.

Sandy was frozen.

Almost as if in slow motion, blue eyes drifted shut, the wildly gleeful smile melted off his face, and he sagged forward. Sandy watched as the brown haired boy let out a cry of alarm and dove forward, grabbing his twin before he hit the ground. It worked! He almost regretted doing it when their father darted over, laying the sleeping boy on the ground and frantically checking for a pulse, then shaking him wildly when he found one but his boy didn't wake.

Now, for the moment of truth.

Invisible to the others in the room, dreamsand was swirling around the white-haired boy's head. It was thickening, solidifying... With a small starburst of gold, a tiny shimmering dolphin leapt from the mass and swam around his head, chattering happily and silently.

Jack Frost. This was _their_ Jack Frost.

Sandy summoned a dreamsand missile launcher, anchored himself to it, and shot himself towards the North Pole.

-{•At the Pole•}-

"Jason Freeman."

"Where did he live?"

"Alexandria, Virginia."

"How old was he?"

"Seventy-four. Miraculously recovered from a stroke."

"It's not him."

Bunny groaned and threw the paper down into the ever-growing stack. They were doing as Tooth asked and were sifting through reports of those who died or were dying the day Jack did, but she was being frustratingly cryptic about it. The pole was still oddly silent.

"Can't ya jus' tell us what we're lookin' for?"

"I did tell you." Said Tooth absentmindedly. "Boys. Most likely surviving some supposedly fatal injury."

Bunny slammed a paw down on the table, his temper boiling over. "TOOTH! Over a 153,000 people die every day! There are thousands of car crashes, accidents, and all that world wide every hour! Imagine how many of them are boys!"

"We just have to keep looking," said Tooth firmly, keeper her eyes on the next paper, unfazed by his outburst. "It'll all make sense when we find the right one." She held up a paper. "Corey Mills, of Columbus, Ohio... He as twenty-four, survived a car crash... Maybe." She conceded, placing the sheet into a much smaller stack.

Bunny groaned again. On a whim, he tugged a paper from the middle of his towering stack and scanned over the name. Brian Jarst, a fifteen year old who had escaped from a hit and run without a scratch. That was a maybe, too. Exasperated beyond belief, Bunny snatched up a newspaper and scanned over it from sheer boredom. He blinked at what he saw.

_In just over a few weeks, the Stark Memorial Service will continue after being interrupted by SHEILD nine months ago. The memorial will be for Jackson and Benjamin Stark, the twin sons of billionaire Tony Stark, who were killed in a lab accident a little less than a year ago. The two boys are remembered for their ingenuity, innovativeness, and most of all, their ability to have fun. An encounter with these boys would always leave you laughing and happy, no matter who you were. These boys are missed, and will always be._

Bunny huffed, running a paw over his face. He was tired, and his brain was muddled. This wasn't a possibility, he had to remind himself. They died a year ago.

Steeling himself, he pulled another paper from his stack. Jonah Oliver Faulkner, twelve, of New York, NYC, had escaped his burning home with serious wounds, but was stable...

**Yes. That's how I leave it. Oh, but you'll like what's next! The next chapter is where it gets interesting! **

**Review!**


	17. Flying Couches and Exploding Microwaves

**hey! It's me! This is my second time doing this, it got erased the first time! **

**So, I've been told the last chapter was a bit of a flop. I wanted to thank those amazing people for their honest critique and say I hope this has more plot to it! **

**Enjoy and Review!**

Tony was pacing again.

It was strikingly similar to the moments that were now more than three hours ago: him, walking agitatedly back and forth, while Steve and Benji sat on the floor, watching him. Despite the situation, Benji had to suppress laughter.

"You ever seen him do this?" He asked Steve, smirking.

Steve nodded."When he was waiting for you and your brother to wake up."

Benji sighed, "Then you know he's not gonna stop."

"Yeah."

Tony's mind was raging. This had happened to JACK, but not BENJI. Jack had undergone inexplicable physical changes, but Tony just had to be stupid and not check for rogue cells. Then, Jack had collapsed, no warning, no symptoms. He wasn't dead, thank god; just sleeping.

He was sleeping, but Tony couldn't wake him up.

Sound familiar?

What if he had acted too soon? What if the effect of the serum was only temporary? It had been an hour since he'd collapsed. But if any effect was temporary, which one? Was the wakefulness temporary or the random sleep? Was it the serum that shut him down, or was he just tired? Why hadn't this happened to Benji too?

Tony glanced at the heart monitor again. Jack, hooked up to a dozen different machines, lay peacefully on the bed. His heartbeat was sixty-seven, which was a normal resting heart rate as opposed to his coma rates, which were in the fifties.

"What if he's just sleeping?"

Tony blinked and looked at Benji, who was observing him with raised eyebrows. Something in Tony's head glared alarm bells. How had Ben knew what he was thinking? Had the serum given him mind control?! Jack had been changed on the outside; what if Benji had changed on the inside–?

"You were mumbling, Tony," Steve said it flatly, and Tony shook his head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. God, he was being paranoid. He was running on coffee and donuts. That wasn't good. He was literally dealing with life and death here, and he was running solely on manufactured sugar and fading adrenaline.

With a moan, he slid down next to Ben, scrubbing his face with his hands. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "I just...I've spent the last year trying to bring you back. I've done crazy things along the way. Worked on the suits and—shit, I had to put you on hold— can you believe that? A father put his dying sons on hold— when general eyepatch came and said he needed some muscle. I shot a missile into space. I fought freaking aliens. You know the Hulk, and Hawkeye, and the Black Widow? I fought aliens with them, Ben. I got into a fight with a demigod. Hell, Ben... I sassed the God of Mischief that was intent on enslaving humanity. And he threw me out the window, and—"

He stopped short when he looked up and saw Ben holding out a steaming pack of shawarma. "Still your favorite?" Asked Ben as he took it, gingerly poking his sandwich to check the temperature.

"How– when did you–"

"I got up some point around 'general eyepatch' and got this for you. Well, JARVIS did— what did you _do_ to him while we were gone?— Anyway, he said it calms you down."

Tony blinked, bewildered. It was true— after the battle of Manhattan, Shawarma had become his comfort food ever since he'd gone and had it with the team. "You sure you're not the parent?" He asked his son.

Benji blinked and tilted his head, his eyebrows scrunching together. "Eighty-two percent." He offered.

"Thanks." Tony scoffed. Beside Ben, Steve grinned as he picked up his sandwhich.

There was silence.

—•—•—•–•—

_He was flying again. But he didn't feel that same power any more. No, he felt raw. Empty. Like there was a gaping hole in his chest. _

_He looked to the ground below, which lay at least five thousand feet down and slid past at a snail's pace, a patchwork of green, brown, and dark green, but he wasn't scared. Just sad. And confused. And worried. The sun shone brightly on him, burning uncomfortably into the back of his head. _

_The powerful night must have been a long time ago. _

_He blinked in shock as the pool of earthly colors suddenly stopped, giving way to a roiling space of blue. It was water, he realized, but much, much more than his pond! This was, like, a thousand of his ponds! A million! A billion! Filled with curiosity, wonder, and glee, he dove downwards until he hovered just above the wild ripples. But ripples wasn't the right word. Ripples were gentle little parts of the water the flowed around like the wind on water. These movements were much bigger, swelling out of nowhere before surging powerfully towards the shore, curling gracefully in on themselves before crashing into the shore. _

_With a delighted giggle, he commanded the wind to lower him down until his toes skimmed the moving water. 'Waves.' The wind whispered to him in its soft voice. _

_"Waves," He echoed, grinning as the world rolled in his mouth. His toes skimmed the water, and he watched as ice curled out from the point of contact. That familiar elation rose in him and he shot into the air, his child's mind seeking out the highest wave. There! He darted to it as it swelled greater and greater. He yelped as the wind suddenly dropped him, his stomach both horribly and wonderfully tugged from his body, when his feet touched the wave crest and it froze solid! A whoop of elation rose from his throat as ice was borne before his feet as he slid down the wave like a skateboarder. Yells of defiant joy fell from his mouth every time topped the apex, riding these waves of the ocean, the waves freezing beneath him. At one point in his daze of happiness, gray blurs leapt beside him, diving expertly in and out of the water, making friendly chattering sounds. _

_Dolphins! The wind whistled excitedly, dolphins! _

_"Dolphins!" He shouted with utter abandon, relishing this wonderful high of fun. "DOLPHINS!" _

_The exotic creatures squeaked in what seemed to be a friendly response before torpedoing beneath the waves— a fleet of gray. _

_With another whoop of joy, he rode the waves, leaving the tropical seas frozen in his wake..._

—•—•—•—

Sometimes, Fury had to appreciate how quickly the president's workers could mobilize.

He had gotten a reply to his e-mail within the hour, and was now en-route to New York City– Stark Tower— in a helicopter. A bit more subtle and less threatening than the Helicarrier. At his side were a dozen subtly armed agents, ready to apprehend the targets if they resisted. Fury was positive they would. And even if he could get the kids to see sense, Stark wouldn't give up without a fight.

Scratch that. Stark wouldn't give up, especially not his children. He knew how these boys would be tested, and it wasn't pretty. But it was for the best; if they could determine how the boys were revived, it could help people all around the world. Just think of all the military advantages this would give the United States!

"Sir, three minutes." Chirped an intern.

Good. They were ready.

—•—•—•—•—

Even though he had been reassured by Ben, Tony's mind was still churning as he tried to puzzle out why his son had just...collapsed.

He was warming up to the idea of rogue cells. The Tesseract's energy could have done anything to Ben and Jack's genealogical make up. Was that why Jack's hair had changed colors, as well as the pigment in his eyes? He threw back the rest of the shawarma before standing up and tossing his trash away, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

"C'mon, Ben. We need to check you to see of any of your cells are out of whack."

"Mm," grunted Ben, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes as he slid to his feet. "Forget my cells, my whole body's been out of whack."

"Well, let's make sure nothing is malignant and trying to kill you." Said Tony pointedly. Benji shrugged.

Smirking, Steve regained his footing. "I'll go make sure that—"He was cut off as three heavy knocks sounded from the doorway.

They all froze.

Tony grabbed Benji's wrist and shoved him in the direction of the lab. "Go to Jack, lock the door behind you, and don't make a noise until I come get you." His voice was a frantic, fierce whisper. Benji looked torn— and angry.

Three more knocks, faster and louder than before.

His face ashen, Tony motioned for Steve to follow him and the two headed out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He didn't check to see if Ben had listened to him; he could only approach the door.

He put his hand in the knob.

He took a deep breath.

He opened the door.

Behind him, he faintly registered Steve's silent, horrified intake of breath and for once admitted the guy was spot on. Nothing— nothing — was worse than what he saw before him.

At least six guys in SHEILD armor– and packing SHEILD weaponry— stood at his front door, looking none too happy. At their front was Nick Fury himself, holding a look in his eyes that Tony had come to dread.

He was all business.

In the past, Nick Fury had rarely showed any emotion. When he did, it was nothing above determination, grimness, or impatience, and even those would be better than the cold, calculating look he gave Tony now— as if he was withdrawing from the world. And that meant nothing Tony could say– whether he pled, begged, or berated– would touch him.

Tony squared his shoulders. He had to try. He had to try for his sons.

"Mr. Stark." It was the barest acknowledgement, and Tony fought to keep his heart from sinking when he heard the cool, flat tone.

"Fury. Come to tell me about your new Fangirls?" He tried. The hulking people behind Fury remained impassive, staring over his head. Fury, too, remained stoic.

"May we come in?" It wasn't really much of a question as he just barged swiftly by Steve and Tony, his lackeys following suit. Tony's heart seemed to freeze in his chest as Fury looked left, right, sideways, his eyes darting around the room as if he was looking for something...or someone.

Oh God. Jesus. He figured it out. Tony should have known that Fury would put the pieces together. The guy was a freaking machine. Tony couldn't find it in himself to confront Fury directly and put the secret in the open. But all he could think of was keeping the boys safe. He silently pleaded to whatever life form resisted in the metaphorical sky that the boys were at least hidden. Other than pray, he could only watch the proceedings with mounting horror.

Finding his initial search unsatisfactory, Fury turned curtly to his posse. "Spread out. Look everywhere. You know what to do." His manner was incredibly terse. His posture was stiff, and face was drawn. His hands seemingly resting in his pockets, but Tony knew there was a gun less than an inch away from his fingers, ready to be drawn at a moments notice.

He was ready for a fight.

Bang!

Tony whipped around and gawked as one soldier who strongly resembled a gorilla kicked open the first door he saw– which led to the media room– and slinked inside, his gun held ready. The billionaire's mouth tasted like sand, but some part of him was somehow still functioning.

"W– wait, what's with the guns?!" He yelped. Part of it was play acting, but some of it was genuine shock of why they were acting like he was housing Osama bin Laden.

"Just precaution," intoned Fury flatly.

Precaution? They were sixteen year old kids, not terrorists!

Behind him, he heard Steve draw in a breath. "Sir, if you're going to invade his home, you might as well give him a reason." His tone was surprisingly even. Fury, however, simply ignored the super soldier, who silently backed off and went to try to talk with one of the guards with Fury striding swiftly into kitchen. Tony's internal alarms screamed bloody murder as he followed on Fury's heel, but Ben had vanished. Fury gazed with a narrowed eye around the smushed pillows, the breakfast trash that littered the table, and shawarma wrappers in the sink. Sunlight poured blindingly through the floor-to-ceiling window, throwing everything in bright contrast.

"I'm certain you've guessed why I'm here." Tony looked around. None of his goons were around, having gone to search the rest of the penthouse. "It's for the best, of course." Fury continued flatly.

Tony saw red. "For the best?" He spat. He forced himself to say nothing else, but Fury turned to him, his eye suddenly blazing.

"Yes, the best. Especially for an ignorant man like you, Stark, who needs a good wake-up call to the real world. And since I'll soon have evidence that you illegally used energy related to the Tesseract, you'll be imprisoned for the rest of your natural life." He reached into his jacket...

Tony hardly registered the uncovering of the stun-gun, and thought he knew what was happening as it shot towards him. But he was a bit more occupied with the ear-shattering yell of "NO!" And the brown blur that cannoned into Fury's side, sending both tumbling to the ground, in the nick of time.

Fury hit the ground, but Benji skittered a few more feet from his tremendous momentum, but almost immediately scrambled to his feet. On the ground, Fury groaned. The stun gun had been pressed against him, but had hit that dang leather coat first. It must have been bulletproof or something, because he was still conscious, but barely.

Tony turned on Benji, grabbing his shoulders. "What the hell are you doing?" He hissed. "I told you to—"

"He woke up!" Benji scream-whispered back, grinning. As if on cue, Tony heard the muffled yells of shock of at least two guards as Jack—

"He dropped a couch on them," Benji chuckled. "Ingenious Booby-trap."

Boom! A deep tremor shuddered through the floor for less than a second. The faint smell of something burning tickled his nose.

"The spare microwave." Benji laughed. "That one's mine. Perfect time-delayed bomb."

The sound of running feet reached their ears and Tony tensed only to see Jack swing breathlessly into the kitchen, panting, his left sleeve smoldering and face streaked with ash but grinning like crazy.

"Let's do it again!" He gasped.

He and Benji laughed together, and Tony could just stare at the two of them, astonished that his two sons had thought of something he never would have.

Suddenly, Benji's laughed inverted to a gasp and a convulsion rippled through his body. Tony watched in horror as his eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground at the side of Nick Fury, who was panting, stomach down on the ground, his good eye gleaming with triumph as the young boy collapsed before him. The stun-gun was clenched in his hand where he must have jabbed it into Benji's leg.

Jack let out a yell and grand-goal soccer kicked the weapon out of Fury's hand before smashing his foot down hard on the back of the agent's head, causing his forehead to slam into the hard floor and knock him out cold. Jack seized the stun-gun and pointed it at the door way– boom! Boom!– taking out two more guards. They crumpled to the ground like puppets with cut strings, but two more were behind that. BANG! Jack flew backwards and slammed into the wall, blood pumping out of a bullet wound in his shoulder.

"NO!" Tony bellowed, and grabbed a stun-gun that lay on the found and fired, but missed. The gun–the real gun– was aimed at his head, he was frozen—

Steve appeared out of nowhere. He yanked one SHEILD agent into a headlock and fisted them in the gut, causing them to gasp and double over. Steve blindly kicked backwards, at the other guard, his serum-enhanced foot striking the left knee and sending the guard crumpling. He threw the head-locked agent to the ground, yanking the stun-gun out of the holster and and firing as he fell. A single twitch, and the agent was out. Steve whirled on the last guard who was frantically struggling to rise with a displaced kneecap and fired another pulse that sent the guard flopping to the ground.

All of this happened in less than five seconds.

Tony took one look at Steve, who was disheveled, panting, and unhurt, then raced over to Jack, who was was slumped against the wall, his face pasty gray. He fought the urge to vomit as he examined the fleshy mess. If things had been better, the bullet would have left a clean hole for easy removal. But instead, the projectile had entered the arm and hit the bone, cutting through a layer of muscle. Beneath that he could see a white sliver– the bone had splintered. Tony carefully took the hem of his shirt and tried to wipe away some of the blood, but Jack, semi-conscious and in a state of shock, let out a hiss of pain and shrank away.

"Ben's alright," said Steve, still breathing hard. "Just–just knocked out. He'll be up soon."

"But we need to get out of here." Tony didn't even realize it until the words were out of his mouth. "God, Steve– we gotta run."

Steve frowned, "What do you–"

"We just assaulted the commander of SHEILD and six government agents. They'll be people after us." Tony was felt like he'd been the one that had been shot– his breathing quickened and his heart sped up. Ignoring the gasps of pain, Tony took off his over shirt (he was a guy who liked to layer–so what?) and wrapped it around Jack's wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Yet his mind was whirling.

"We need to get out of here. We need to run."

**Enjoy and Review! anyone know how to insert lines?**


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